


Where the Cliff Greets the Sea

by RobotSquid



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dressmaker, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, First Time, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, clothed getting off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 113,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotSquid/pseuds/RobotSquid
Summary: For years, Victor and his crew of pirates have been the bane of the coast, unmatched and elusive.  With little left to satisfy him, he visits the small seaside town of Hasetsu, drawn by its simple charms.Yuuri lives a quiet life sewing and tailoring dresses with the unattainable dream of designing gowns of his own.Victor sees him working through the window of the dress shop, and decides to stay.A pirate!Victor and dressmaker!Yuuri AU.





	1. Chapter 1

 

_“I was born and raised by the sea, shy yet proud_

_Learned to stay away from the crowd”_

_\- “White Pearl, Black Oceans…”_

 

Whether Hasetsu was cloaked in white or buzzing with cicadas or thick with the scent of flowers, it was the same town year after year.

Yuuri always found that comforting.  He liked routine, the hard-won sense of normalcy and peace he’d crafted over time.  He liked knowing that when the harbor thawed, the buoys bells would begin to ring again, and he liked knowing that the lighthouse lit up at the same hour every night.  When he came home from work, the dog would be the first to announce his arrival with a bark, and his mother would greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

There was nothing that ever showed up to surprise him, to jolt him out of his carefully cultivated lifestyle.  There was nothing to threaten him.  Nothing would ever change, as long as he stayed content.

 

The buoy bells out in the harbor were the first thing Yuuri heard when he woke up.  The sea breeze drifted in through his open window, lifting fluttering curtains into the air.  He could see the clear sky of the morning, and he heard the rustle of the trees in the yard.  Spring had come in full force, the warm air infused with the scent of cherry blossoms a welcome change from the stillness of winter.

Yuuri turned over in bed, careful not to wake Vicchan, who was tucked up next to him, sleeping soundly.  The family dog always slept with him, and Yuuri found it difficult to even fall asleep without Vicchan there.  Yuuri laid quietly, motionless, listening to the distant waves and watching the curtains dance in the wind.  The temptation to stay there for another hour was great, but soon he could hear his mother and sister moving around in the kitchen downstairs.

He sat up with a soft sigh, jostling the dog awake.  Vicchan blinked at him, stretched, yawned, and then climbed into Yuuri’s lap.

“Vicchan,” Yuuri sighed, scratching behind his ear, “why do you have to make it so hard to get out of bed?”

Vicchan looked up at him with his big, sweet, puppy eyes and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile and grab him up into a hug.

“Come on,” he said, signaling for Vicchan to jump down.  He took his glasses from the nightstand and followed Vicchan out of bed.  “Today is going to be busy.”

 

Although the restaurant had been in the family for years, Yuuri was the only one who didn’t actually work there.  He helped out on busy days and nights when he could, but those times were almost nonexistent these days.  He’d been trying for years to not feel guilty about it; however, he’d spent far too long persuading his parents to let him have the job at the seamstress’s shop.  He poured his whole heart into working with Minako, learning from her and hearing her stories and receiving her feedback.  It was all he’d wanted to do for as long as he could remember.  And yet, when he came home at night and saw the fatigue behind his mother’s smiling eyes, it was hard not to feel the bitter stab of guilt in his chest, the thought that he had somehow abandoned them.

The spring was a busy time for Yu-Topia, since with every change of the season, new ingredients and new foods came into the market.  Yuuri’s mother changed their menu four times a year, and everybody in Hasetsu was flocking to get their old favorites now that they were available again.  His mother had been getting up extra early to prepare for the rush of customers, and his sister, Mari, had been doing the same.  The whole family was working harder and longer hours.  All except Yuuri.

Yuuri tried to leave the house as discreetly as possible, so as not to alert his mother and sister to his presence.  They would have been up for at least an hour by now, while he was sleeping. 

“Ah, Yuuri!”  Yuuri jumped as he heard his mother’s voice from down the hall.  He turned and saw her running out of the kitchen towards him, her face red and her hands covered in flour.

“Are you going already?” she asked.

“Yeah…” he replied, feeling small.  “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Nonsense!  Let me make you some breakfast, Yuuri.”  She smiled at him, her cheeks plump in the same way Yuuri’s were.

“I’m actually running a little late this morning.”  He gave her a weak smile.  “Please don’t worry about me.”

For a moment, there was a flash of sadness in his mother’s eyes, but then Mari called for her from the kitchen.

Yuuri leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.  “I’ll be home later tonight,” he told her, and left before his mother could say any more.

Minako’s dress shop wasn’t far from his house.  He only needed to go a few blocks down the street to get there.  It sat atop a small hill off the main thoroughfare, with a short flight of stone steps leading up to the front door.  Minako’s dresses were proudly displayed on simple dress forms in the window, wedding gowns and party dresses and ballroom attire.  This was _the_ place in town to buy any formal clothing worth having, and Yuuri had seen many a young girl come through the front door, overjoyed that she was finally getting her very first Okukawa dress.

As for why Minako had chosen to set up her shop here, in the smallest port town on the entire coast, the reason was quite simple.  In her youth, Minako had traveled not just the country, but the world, and seen places Yuuri could never dream of.  She was by no means old, or at least Yuuri didn’t consider her so, but she had decided to plant her roots in her very own hometown.  She’d told him many times that it was far more rewarding to mentor somebody earnest and authentic, which was apparently hard to come by in the city.  Yuuri had wandered into her shop when he was six years old, entranced by the colors and fabric in the window, and since that day it had been his second home.

When he entered the shop, Minako sat behind the counter, scowling heavily at her ledger book.  She didn’t react to Yuuri’s presence until he moved closer, at which point her head jerked up, clearly startled.

“Oh,” she said, sighing heavily.  “Good morning, Yuuri.”  She leaned back from the book and rubbed her temples.

“Good morning,” Yuuri replied, glancing down at the ledger book.  He shifted his bag on his shoulder, a sense of wrongness filling his gut.  “Is everything okay?”

Minako sighed again, closed the book, and leaned forward on folded arms.  “The silk shipment didn’t come in this morning,” she said bluntly, utter exasperation lacing her every word.

Yuuri could have dropped through the floor.  “What?” he breathed as the color drained from his face.  “What happened?”

“If you can believe it,” she said with a dry laugh, “it was _stolen_ again!  How unlucky do I have to be to have two fabric shipments in a row stolen by pirates?!”

Yuuri broke out into a cold sweat.  “Th-then…what about the dress?”  He didn’t want the answer.

Minako threw up her hands.  “There’s nothing we can do, Yuuri.  The customer paid for silk and we don’t have the silk.  We went through all this last time, remember?”

He cringed at the memory.  Yuuri did not handle confrontation well in the slightest, which was why Minako dealt with the customers more frequently between the two of them.  He didn’t even like witnessing confrontation.  But he had been in the shop the day that Minako had had to explain to their commissioner that her daughter’s wedding dress wouldn’t be ready in time for the rehearsal, and the woman had gone completely off the rails.  Yuuri still flushed hot with fear when he recalled all the things she had said to Minako, how she would discredit her in front of everybody she knew, how she would demand her down payment back with interest, and several other things Yuuri would have never allowed anyone to say to his teacher.  And yet, he did allow it, because in the moment, he hadn’t stepped up to Minako’s defense.  Later on, she’d say that she wasn’t upset, only that they needed to focus on a solution.

And the solution _had_ been to order another bolt of blue silk, for a slightly higher price but faster delivery time, and just take the hit on the cost.  It would arrive in time to give them just one day to complete the dress, but they’d both agreed to work as long as needed to get it done in time for the actual wedding.  But with that shipment gone as well, Minako had lost even more money on this that she would never get back.

Yuuri had never seen his teacher at a loss before.  Minako always had an answer, a solution, a workaround.  She was never frazzled, the steady, patient, firm rock that Yuuri had relied on for so many years.

Minako sighed and ran her fingers through her long brown hair.  “I need a drink,” she murmured miserably.  “Yuuri, I…I don’t know what to do.”

Yuuri balled his hands into fists and stared at the floor.  He racked his brain for a solution, _anything_ at all he could possibly do to fix this…anything, anything….

 _I have no choice.  It’s the only way._   He swallowed, his throat constricting as he did so, and looked up.  Minako sat behind the counter on her stool, her fingers twitching restlessly like she was trying to grip a bottle.

_For Minako…it’s for Minako._

“I…” he stated, voice quivering, “I know where I can get some silk.”

Minako looked up, frowning.  “What’s that?  What do you mean?”

Yuuri glanced away and started walking back towards the door.  “Just…I’ll be right back, okay?  I promise, I’ll be right back.”  He left before she could ask any more questions, and he could hear her calling his name behind him.

He ran back towards the restaurant, jogging past familiar faces and buildings that were nothing but fuzzy background noise to him now.  His heart beat tightly inside his chest, and he swallowed his apprehension down.  If he didn’t stop to think about it, didn’t stop to convince himself of any reason not to do it—and there were plenty of selfish ones he could come up with—then he could do this.  He just repeated over and over, _for Minako, for Minako, for Minako._

Yuuri burst through the front door of the restaurant and headed up the stairs to his room.  If his father or sister saw him or spoke to him, he didn’t hear it.  He ignored everything, even Vicchan’s frantic barking.  Once up in his room, he shut the door tight and locked it, not wanting to be disturbed for even an instant.  He rested a moment with his back against the door, letting his bag drop, and he looked at what he’d come here for.

The dress form stood in the far corner, away from where any sunlight could reach it, upon which was the gown he’d spent the last six months working on.  He’d saved up for so long that he forgot exactly when he’d started putting money away to buy the materials.  The off shoulder sleeves had taken him a week to get just right, he’d sewn every stitch of the neckline with such deliberate precision that his back had been sore for days, bending over his worktable by dim candlelight.  The small, cheap silver sequins, of which he could only buy a handful every few weeks, had just about driven him out of his mind figuring out just how to sew them onto the bodice.  His fingertips were still calloused from how many times he’d pricked them.

The gown’s skirt was the last piece he’d needed to finish it:  several yards of midnight sky blue silk.  Yuuri tried not to remember how it had taken him months to save up the money, how he’d visited the fabric shop for weeks trying to pick the perfect shade of blue, how he’d shaken with excitement when the cool, slick bolt of material was finally placed into his hands.  He blanked his mind and shoved the memory away as he took the pair of shears from his work table.

 _I need it_ , he thought, taking the skirt in his hand.  _Minako needs it.  This is the right thing to do._

He told himself that, over and over, and by the time he finally cut into the dress, he didn’t feel anything.

 

Yuuri stepped back into the dress shop; Minako’s face lit up and she practically leaped over the counter towards him.

“Yuuri!” she exclaimed, her face contorted with concern.  “Where did you go?”

Yuuri silently opened his bag and pulled out the neatly folded bolt of silk.  Minako stared at it, her face going pale and her eyes slowly beginning to sparkle.  She looked torn, a clear sense of relief settling into her features, mixed with suspicion, worry, and a thousand questions.

“We should get started,” Yuuri said softly, heading towards the back room where the wedding dress sat, unfinished.

“Yuuri, wait.”  Minako gently grabbed his arm.  “Are you okay?  What’s going on?”

There was an awkward moment of silence as Yuuri considered simply ignoring her question.  He swallowed roughly and turned to her with a labored smile.  “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Minako rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder lightly.  “That’s not what I was saying,” she told him.

“We really do have a lot of work to do, though.  I can explain to you later.”

For now, she accepted that.  She and Yuuri headed into the back room, and Yuuri spread the silk out on the table.  The edges were already hemmed, and the first order of business was to see if the hemming could be used as is, or if they would need to undo it all and start again.  Minako had a defter hand when it came to seam ripping, so Yuuri left it to her to decide.

The shade of blue was slightly darker than what they’d ordered originally, but there was no time to think about bleaching it lighter.  With any luck, it would be a negligible difference.

Yuuri tried to distract himself by focusing on how much he liked the design of this dress.  It was one that Minako had come up with a few years ago, and was just starting to become popular among the ladies of the town.  Most of the dress was white, with a long, floor-length skirt and a bodice that laced up in the back.  The back of the dress, however, opened from top to bottom to expose deep blue silk underneath.  There was to be a pattern of white and silver beading where the blue and white met on the back of the skirt.  Yuuri had been working on those appliques for weeks, and he only hoped that he had not messed them up in any way.  The thought of having to redo them sent a surge of stress through his chest.

For hours, he and Minako pored over the dress.  All other tasks they had for the day were ignored in favor of getting it completed.  Every so often, the bell of the front door signaled a customer, and Minako would have to leave, and every time she was interrupted, Yuuri could see her getting more and more flustered.

Dressmaking could often be stressful, and time constraints were nothing new to Yuuri.  Minako worked her best under pressure, but she was clearly overwhelmed.  Yuuri did his best not to exacerbate her condition more, and insisted on her taking breaks when he noticed that her diligence was slipping.

Even still, Yuuri was amazed at how Minako transformed the silk he’d brought.  It was a little less than what they needed, and the design needed to be modified in places to make it all work, but Minako did it all like it was barely a challenge.  If they had the time, he’d be asking her questions about her every decision and every move, but it would have to wait until later.

In time, the dress began to take shape.  All that was left was to sew on the appliques and attach the silk to the dress.  Yuuri sat at the work table, arranging the appliques and slowly attaching them one by one.  By now, the sun was setting, filling the wide window with orange light.  The window faced out towards the street, and occasionally people would stop by to look into the workroom.  Yuuri generally kept the curtains closed whenever he was in there by himself, but he needed the fading sunlight.  He was dimly aware of people passing the window, but he paid it no mind.

Minako came into the workroom with a heavy sigh.  “Okay Yuuri,” she said.  “The shop is all closed up.  I can take it from here, you head on home.”

“What?” Yuuri asked, looking up.  “What’d you say?”

She frowned and sat down next to him.  “You’ve been back here all day, and you haven’t eaten.  Go home, Yuuri, I’ll finish this.”

“No, that’s okay.”  Yuuri looked at Minako’s eyes:  they were bloodshot, and there were bags under her eyes.  The stress of the day was quickly taking its toll on her.  “I’m not hungry, and I’m almost done.”

“Yuuri.”  Minako said his name with all the sternness of a parent and a teacher rolled into one.  “I don’t want your mother to worry.”

Yuuri gazed down at the floor.  True, there had been times when Mari had been sent to come get him when he didn’t return home by his expected hour, and the statement about his not being hungry had been a lie.  His traitorous stomach chose exactly this moment to growl, and Yuuri felt his face flush.

But he couldn’t leave.  He didn’t want to leave his silk.  He knew it was silly and stupid, but giving up the silk had only been this easy because he’d been thinking about something else all day long.  Once he went home, he’d have to see his destroyed dress and know that he would never get the money again to buy more fabric.  He’d have to deal with the fact that it would never be finished, and that the last six months had been wasted on a selfish desire.

“Yuuri, please.”  Minako’s tone was soft as she laid her hand atop Yuuri’s, clutching the needle tightly between his fingers.  “At the very least, let me bring you something to eat.”  She smiled.  “Anything you want.”

He looked up at her and knew he couldn’t refuse, not when she was this worried.  And so he forced up a smile and nodded.  “Okay.”

Minako leaned forward and hugged him tight.  Her familiar scent mixed with her light perfume filled Yuuri’s senses, and he felt himself calm down, his muscles releasing tension he hadn’t even been aware of.  He struggled to hold back the sudden overwhelming need to cry, mostly because he didn’t even know why he would be shedding tears at all.  He hugged her back, and was grateful for everything that she was to him.

She pulled away and softly brushed Yuuri’s bangs out of his face.  “Fish ball soup?” she asked.

Yuuri nodded eagerly, unable to contain a sincere grin.

“Wiiith…strawberry cake for dessert?”

Yuuri’s eyes went wide.  “Really?”

“Anything for you, Yuuri.  You absolutely saved this entire thing.”

He felt his cheeks grow warm at the praise, and he nodded.  “Okay.”

Minako stood up.  “I’ll be back in a bit.  I’m going to let your parents know you’ll be a little late tonight.  Don’t push yourself too hard while I’m gone.”

Yuuri buried himself back in the appliques.  There were so many that needed to be sewn on, and at such specific intervals; this would definitely take him late into the night hours.  He didn’t mind.  He would do whatever it took to ensure that the dress was finished on time.  The sun faded farther down the horizon, and the foot traffic outside the window began to dwindle as people headed home or to the bar.  The restaurant was probably approaching its busiest hours back home.  Yuuri pushed away the inkling of guilt that told him he should be there helping.

After a while, he became aware of somebody standing across the street; something that wouldn’t be altogether noteworthy if Yuuri didn’t have the distinct sense that he was being stared at.  Yuuri looked up, trying to seem nonchalant, and caught a glimpse of a man standing in the shadows between two houses.  The man was definitely looking in his direction, but as soon as Yuuri stared back, he turned and walked away, disappearing from view.

It set Yuuri’s entire body on edge.  He leaned forward and drew the curtains closed; the sunlight was no longer helpful anyway.  There were some oil lamps on the wall that would do for now.  Minako came in shortly thereafter, carrying a delicious smelling container of fish ball soup in one hand and a paper box in the other, which Yuuri recognized as the strawberry cake.

He took his first extended break of the day with Minako as she divided the soup between them; they ate on a cleared away table in the corner of the workroom.  Yuuri did his best not to devour his meal as quickly as he wanted to.  He was absolutely starving, having not eaten all day, but he hated being the first to finish his food.

Now that they had some down time, Yuuri took the opportunity to ask Minako the questions he’d been dying to ask all day.  She explained to him how she’d recalculated the paneling on the skirt, how she was able to stretch the amount of yardage they had to work with, and other times she’d been forced to improvise on the spot.  It was, she explained, sometimes the best way to force creativity.  Yuuri was still impressed with his teacher after all these years.  He wondered sometimes why a woman of her sheer talent wasted her time teaching somebody as mediocre as him.  Minako had designed clothing for nobility, for foreign dignitaries, and she had even spent a few years creating ballet costumes somewhere across the sea.  There was nothing she couldn’t do.

After dinner, it was back to work.  Yuuri was reenergized with the food, and so, it seemed, was Minako.  They worked side by side, mostly in deeply concentrating silence, and the dress came together.  Once the appliques were done, they sewed the silk into the gown, underneath the white fabric, and finally, finally, it stood completed.

“We did it, Minako,” Yuuri said, grinning ear to ear as he plopped down onto a stool.  “It’s done.”

Minako stood silently, staring at the wedding dress, until she burst into tears and grabbed Yuuri up in a tight hug.  “Yuuriiiiii,” she wailed, squeezing him to her chest, “you beautiful, lovely, _wonderful_ boy, you saved us, you saved us, I don’t know what we would have done without you!”

Yuuri giggled and patted her on the back.  “You did most of the work though,” he said, wincing as she squeezed the breath out of him.

“Nonsense!”  Minako broke away and held him at arm’s length.  “Don’t discount what you did on this too.  There’s nobody else I would have trusted to help me with this, Yuuri, and I mean that.”

He tried to believe her, and smiled shyly.

They decided to leave cleaning the workroom until the morning, as it was now several hours past midnight and the shop would have to open up in just a few more hours anyway.  Minako walked Yuuri back to his house in spite of his protests, then went in search of a bar that was still open this time of night.  He didn’t know how she could think of doing anything except sleeping, but everybody had their own way of unwinding.

As Yuuri crept silently into the house, he was greeted by the excited, frantic barking of Vicchan, who all but assaulted him at the door.  The puppy jumped and barked and wagged his tail hard enough to shake his entire body.  Yuuri picked him up, and Vicchan couldn’t lick his face fast enough.

“Sorry I’m late, Vicchan,” Yuuri apologized.  “I’ll make it up to you later.”

He was half expecting Mari to be up waiting for him, as she had done in the past, but she was nowhere to be seen.  All the better.  He didn’t want to see her worried face, didn’t want to explain why he’d come home earlier in the day, and most of all, didn’t want to explain why he was beginning to cry.

He carried Vicchan up to his room and softly closed the door behind him.  The puppy jumped out of his arms and headed straight for the bed.  Yuuri looked up and saw the dress form in the corner, with only half a dress upon it, his shears still open and laying on the table.  That was all it took for the barely suppressed tears to violently burst free, and Yuuri slumped to the floor with his back against the door as all the emotions of the day crushed him in their cold grip.

His chest crumbled under the weight of the sobs heaving out of him, and he shoved his hands under his glasses to stem the flow of tears, hot and stinging and plump on his fingers.  He heard the whine of Vicchan as the dog climbed into his lap and tried to nose his way to Yuuri’s face.  Yuuri tossed his glasses aside, barely caring if they broke, and buried his face in Vicchan’s soft fur.  Vicchan whined softly and licked his face.

“I’m so stupid, Vicchan,” Yuuri whispered miserably.  “I was so stupid to think I could have this.”

What did it matter, really?  The dress he’d destroyed was ugly anyway, nowhere near the standards that Minako had taught him.  The silk was better off where it was, on a better dress, made by a better seamstress.  He should have torn it off the dress the first time the shipment had been stolen and given it to Minako then.  This was all punishment for his selfishness.

 _I know better now_ , he thought, his tears showing no signs of stopping.  _I’ll never be that self-absorbed again._

By the time his tears began to subside, the sky beyond his window had turned gray with morning light.  Birdsong drifted in from outside, and Vicchan laid snoring in his lap.  Yuuri remained on the floor, idly petting the dog with one hand, staring at the broken dress.  The sobs were gone, and he was left ravaged and raw, his throat savaged from holding back his sounds.  He was so tired, the exhaustion seeping into his bones, but soon enough it would be time to leave for work.  There was no point to crawling into bed now; he may as well just stay up.

Soon enough, the sounds of his family moving around downstairs reached him.  He gently coaxed Vicchan awake and stood up.

 

Yuuri couldn’t have turned down his mother’s offer of breakfast that morning if he tried.  He was so worn out from everything that had happened, he thought he might collapse and die if he didn’t get some food in him.  He dodged all her questions about what had happened yesterday, and ignored her looks of concern.  It was obvious she knew he had been crying.  Yuuri didn’t want to talk about any of it, so he shoveled rice into his mouth and made no eye contact with anyone.

The wedding dress was going to be picked up today, so Yuuri left for the shop as soon as he was finished.  He hoped that there was nothing they’d overlooked in the chaos of yesterday, but in the event there was, there should be enough time to touch it up.

When he arrived, there was no sign of Minako.  Yuuri hoped she hadn’t stayed out too late last night, but she usually turned up sooner rather than later.  Minako didn’t exactly have what Yuuri would call a drinking problem, yet sometimes the choices she made were…ill-advised.  Yuuri unlocked the front door and immediately headed for the back room.

The dress was just as breathtaking as it had been yesterday.  With a fresh eye, it actually looked better.  Yuuri felt a bit of stress seep out of him; it was still amazing that he and Minako had been able to pull this off.  There was nothing to worry about.  The bride’s mother would _have_ to love it.

Yuuri opened the curtains, illuminating the dim room, and set his bag down on a nearby table.  The workroom was still in disarray from last night, unused swatches and pieces of thread strewn everywhere.  Most of it went into the trash, and Yuuri carefully picked out the pieces large enough to keep for scraps.  Minako was strict about never wasting more fabric than was necessary.  Yuuri sifted through the meager bits of silk that had been discarded, and the rush of guilt hit him again.

All that was left of it was a single strip of material, barely thicker than a ribbon.  Minako might have been able to use it for something, and he knew that he should keep it for her.  Holding it in his hand again, he ran his fingertips over the smooth surface and across the frayed edges.  It was still beautiful, even after all it had been through to get here.

 _It’s mine_ , he thought, the thought rising up from the deep recesses of his mind.  _I bought it and it belonged to me first._

He wrapped it in a tight circle around his palm, then slipped it into his bag.  If nothing else, it would be a reminder.

Yuuri got the broom from the closet and began sweeping the floor.   He had to do it every day, sometimes twice a day, because the floor always got dusty in a matter of hours.  He was careful to keep away from the wedding dress; the fabric was such a brilliant white that even a speck of dirt would be a glaring blemish.  Yuuri kept a wide berth as he swept under the tables and in the corners, gathering his piles near the back door.

Just as he began to sweep the dust piles out into the street, the front door bell jingled from the next room.  He figured it was Minako, yet several moments passed, and there was no further sound.  He expected that she would come into the workroom first thing to check on the dress, just as he had.  It was probably a customer, in that case.

Yuuri set the broom aside and sighed inwardly.  He wasn’t bad at speaking with customers, he just hated doing it.  Hopefully, it would be a quick interaction and he could get back to the other work orders that had been put off by yesterday’s whirlwind.

He headed out into the main room of the dress shop, mustered up a smile, and said, “Good morning—”

The rest of the greeting caught in his throat as the man in the shop turned around to face him.

Yuuri was certain he’d never seen a person dressed so strikingly in his life.  The man was tall, with long, slender limbs, and he wore a coat of the brightest pink velvet Yuuri had ever imagined possible.  The coat was accentuated with shining golden buttons, golden cufflinks, and several brooches of gems of all colors.  There was a ring upon almost every one of his fingers, from simple golden bands to gaudy jewels to match the ones on his chest.  In each of his ears were several gold rings and long, dangling sapphires.  His hair, all silver and starlight, laid in a loose braid across one shoulder.  Sharp blue eyes looked at him from beneath a wide-brimmed cavalier’s hat, adorned with a long peacock feather.

Their eyes met, and Yuuri took in the sight before him.  He had never seen anybody like this in Hasetsu.  This man was dressed so richly there was no way he wasn’t nobility.  And in that case, why was he _here_?  In this town, and most of all in this shop?  He must be lost.  There was no other reason Yuuri could think of.

The man smiled, a wide, open-mouthed grin, and Yuuri felt something stutter inside his chest.

“Good morning!” he said, his voice accented and smooth.

Yuuri tried to find his voice and found that he had been slack-jawed this whole time.  He closed his mouth and swallowed nervously.  He tried to make his way to the front counter, his feet feeling heavy and not his own.

“Um…” Yuuri said once he’d arrived there, “m-may I help you?”

“This is such a beautiful little shop,” the man mused, completely ignoring Yuuri’s question.  “Such lovely dresses!  Do you make all these?”

“No, my teacher does.  This is her shop,” Yuuri explained, watching the man as he walked around the room, studying each gown with a deliberate eye.

“Is that so?”  He was looking a red dress up and down, one finger held thoughtfully to his chin.  “What do you do then, if you don’t make dresses?”

“I mean…I do sew them, I just don’t design them.  That’s all.”  Yuuri felt miserable as he explained himself, and averted his gaze.

“That takes talent in itself.  It takes a true tailor to replicate designs like this with such precision.”

Yuuri wished fiercely that Minako would appear soon.

“May I ask you something?”

Yuuri looked up; the stranger had approached the counter without him even noticing.  This close, Yuuri could smell the most subtle hint of perfume on the man, coupled with the distinct salt of the sea air.  He could also see that he had the hints of a sunburn across his otherwise pale nose.  His eyes were much bluer than Yuuri had initially realized; they were a light, pale blue, the color of a summer sky.  They held an earnestness in their expression as the stranger spoke to him.

Yuuri nodded, but said nothing.

“Do you perhaps do repair work?”

“Yes,” Yuuri answered.  “That’s one of our main services…it’s actually on the sign.”

“Is it?”  The man laughed, but he didn’t look angry or annoyed in the slightest.  “Forgive me.  I didn’t notice.  But anyway, I was hoping you might be able to repair my coat for me.”

“I could.  Is it…is it this one?”  Yuuri was terrified to even touch it.  Surely the coat alone must cost more than what he’d made in just the last month.

“Yes.  It’s my favorite.”  The man sighed theatrically and held out his right arm.  Yuuri could see a sizeable rip in the seam, leading all the way from the forearm up to the elbow.  “I’m afraid I’ve torn it.”

“That is a pretty big tear,” Yuuri observed, feeling silly as soon as the words left his mouth.  _Of course it’s big.  Why do I have to sound like such an idiot when I talk to people?_

“What do you think?  Can you sew it up for me?”  The man looked at him with something like…excitement.  Yuuri couldn’t imagine why.

“Yes,” he replied.  “It shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”

“Excellent!”  The man shrugged off the coat, the jewelry clanging and clinking as he did so.  Beneath the coat, he only wore a simple cotton shirt, crisp and clean.  The belt buckle on his black leather pants was gold as well—Yuuri supposed it shouldn’t surprise him—but it was the only embellishment on an otherwise plain outfit.  Without the coat, he looked almost reasonably dressed.  “Should I just leave it here?”

“Um…yes, that’s fine.”  The coat was laid onto the counter and Yuuri touched it warily.  There was absolutely no way that this man was not exorbitantly wealthy.  Yuuri had only seen velvet of this quality on the richest merchants that came into port.  Perhaps this man was one of them, but it still explained nothing about why he was here.  Yuuri had never even worked with velvet before.  There had to be better places and better tailors to take care of something this expensive.

Maybe Minako would know what to do with it.  She’d be here soon anyway; he would just ask her later.

“So…” Yuuri said, looking up into the man’s face.  He was still smiling, waiting expectantly.  He looked remarkably like a child with such an expression.  “A-are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?  I have complete confidence in you.”

Yuuri swallowed.  “All right.  Give me…give me about two hours.  Feel free to wait, or…or you can come back later.  Whichever you prefer.”

The man’s smile, amazingly, only grew bigger, and he leaned over the counter to grab Yuuri’s hand in his, shaking it vigorously.  “Ahh, thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed.  “Might I ask you…what is your name?”

“Yuuri,” he said quietly.  The man’s hands were calloused, but somehow gentle.  The warmth of them seeped into Yuuri’s own skin until he shivered with it.

“Yuuri,” the man repeated, and his name sounded so strange and alluring in that odd accented voice.  The man’s face softened as he released Yuuri’s hand and stood up straight.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yuuri,” he said.  “I’m Victor.”

A strange warmth flooded Yuuri’s face, and he found himself wanting to smile.  “Pleasure to meet you too,” was all he managed to say.

“I have an errand or two to run,” Victor said, “so I shall be back later in the morning, if that is all right with you.”

“That’s fine.  I’ll have it ready for you by then.”

“I leave it in your very capable hands, Yuuri.”  Victor winked at him, the gesture piercing Yuuri’s chest with an unfamiliar emotion.  He left the dress shop without another word, and for a while, Yuuri did nothing but stand and stare at the coat that had been entrusted to him.

He wondered if maybe he had dreamt it all, if the exhaustion had taken its toll and this wasn’t real.  He touched the soft velvet, ran his fingertips over the brightly shining jewels, over and over until he was convinced that it was, in fact, real.

Which meant Victor was real too.  Yuuri looked towards the door where Victor had disappeared, and he pushed down the urge to go looking for him.  He didn’t know what he’d do if he found him, but….

 _He’d better come back_ , Yuuri thought.  _I hope he does…._   He smiled, a warmth rising to his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The blue and white wedding dress was based on [this dress here.](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/60/2f/3a/602f3a03d306297821121817e4a4278e.jpg)
> 
> I've been working on this AU for many months and I'm so excited to finally begin to share it with you all! Please let me know what you think in the comments below, and feel free to visit me at my [tumblr](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com) or my [twitter!](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so touched and delighted that you all have enjoyed this story so far! Your comments and encouragement mean everything to me, and I love writing for you all <3

_“Some say our dreams are a distant road_  
_Down which our hearts would like to go_  
 _But I have always stayed in place_  
 _Under that old illusion that it's safe”_

_\-- “The Ship in Port”_

Yuuri stared at the velvet coat, spread out on the workroom table, glittering with gold and gems.  Looking at it more closely, it was beginning to sink in just how exquisitely made it was.  There was barely a strand of velvet out of place, the seams expertly and cleanly tailored, and even the golden thread holding the buttons in place was evenly sewn.  The more he examined it, the more detail Yuuri began to notice, including a small embroidered bird near the neck.

_Why would he just leave all this here?  How does he know I’m not going to steal one of these?_   Yuuri leaned in close to one of the sapphire brooches.  He didn’t know the first thing about discerning jewel quality, but it looked like it could sell for as much as the family restaurant made in a year.  With more than a little apprehension, he reached out and touched it, and was pleasantly surprised at its smoothness.  It was a lovely, deep shade of blue…the same shade and color as his silk, he realized.

Yuuri sat up straight and pushed that thought out of his mind.  He needed to concentrate and be careful with the coat.  The very notion of giving it back to Victor in anything less than perfect condition was appalling.  Yuuri looked out the window, hoping that Minako would arrive soon.  She’d know what to do.

Luckily for Yuuri, she burst in shortly thereafter, swinging open the front door with such force it sounded like the bell had been knocked off.  When she came into the workroom, her hair was gathered into a messy bun, barely holding together.  She looked frantic and disheveled.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Yuuri, I overslept!” she wailed.  “I’m not young anymore, I can’t stay up that late again!  Was everything okay?”

Yuuri nodded.  “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“And you even cleaned up everything all on your own.”  Minako ran over and draped herself over Yuuri, hugging and shaking him side to side.  “I’ll make it up to you, I’ll buy you anything you want for lunch today, you wonderful child.”

Yuuri laughed and patted her back.  “It was really nothing.”

Minako stood up and went over to the dress.  She circled around the dress form, inspecting it for any flaws or oversights that needed correcting.  Past a few light touches and smoothing of the fabric, there was nothing that seemed dire.

“I still can’t believe we got it all done,” she said, a smile of relief spreading across her face.  “Let’s hope we never have to go through that again though, right?”

“Right,” Yuuri agreed.

“Honestly, if they don’t start getting something done about these pirates soon, it’s going to be really bad for us.”  Minako sighed and looked at Yuuri.  “Did we get any customers while I was gone?”

“Oh, yes.”  Yuuri gestured to the velvet coat on the worktable; Minako came forward to examine it.  “A man came in wanting this repaired.  See how it’s got this hole in it?”

Minako frowned at the coat, but she wasn’t focused on the tear.  She ran her fingers lightly over the jeweled brooches, and Yuuri could see her thinking, asking and answering questions in her own mind.  Eventually, she looked up and held Yuuri’s gaze.

“Who was it?” was all she asked.

Yuuri felt suddenly small, and his face grew hot like it always did when he anticipated getting in trouble.  “…I don’t know,” he lied.  “Just a…I think he was a merchant.  He was definitely somebody rich.  But I didn’t recognize him or anything.”

Minako watched his face, and for a minute, Yuuri stopped breathing.  But he must have imagined the cloud of suspicion in her eyes, because she soon looked back to the coat, as if nothing at all was amiss.

“Well,” she said, “just remember next time to let the customers know to take their valuables with them when they leave a garment with us.  I don’t want to be accused of anything.”

“Right,” Yuuri replied, still feeling like he was somehow under scrutiny.  “Sorry.  I thought of that too, but only after he was gone.”

“It’s all right.  Now, I need to go catch up on some things in the shop.  Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Um…actually, I did have one question.”  Yuuri suddenly felt he was causing far too much trouble for her.  But Minako’s face was patient and neutral as she listened to him.  “I’ve never…done anything with velvet before.  Is there anything I should know?”

“For a simple hem job, there isn’t much difference you need to be worried about.  Be sure to use a thin thread, and just know that it sheds a lot of fluff.”  She grinned at him.  “I used to use a lot of velvet back in the day.  We’ll make something with it together sometime.”

Yuuri’s heart relaxed its tight grip, and he nodded.  “That sounds nice.”

Minako left Yuuri to his tasks in the workroom.  He very gently coaxed the sleeve inside out without disturbing the brooches or causing any extra tears.  This was nothing he’d never done before in terms of repairs, but already he knew he was overthinking it.  He picked up the thinnest cotton thread on the shelf and threaded his needle, and then just sat there, staring at the coat and feeling his mind run in circles.

The more he looked at it, the less he could wrest his thoughts away from Victor.  There was no way he was just a merchant.  Yuuri almost never saw merchants anywhere other than the port.  Certainly a few had come to Minako’s shop in the past, but something about Victor seemed different.  Maybe it was his accent; Yuuri had never heard one like it before.  But he liked it.

_He had a nice smile too_ , Yuuri thought as a smile of his own spread across his face.

He lined the pieces of velvet up and stuck his pins in to keep it in place.  Exhaling a deep breath, Yuuri made the first stitch into the fabric.  The velvet was cool and rich against his fingertips, and the thread slid through it with ease.  Once he had the first stitch in and moved on to the second, he felt his mind relax into the gentle quietness that sewing always gave him.  It was a repetitive task, but one that required finesse and attention.  Yuuri always felt calm when he was working like this, reaching an almost meditative state if the task was simple enough.

It was another reason he knew he could never be happy working at his parents’ restaurant.  The kitchen was so chaotic, and his mother and sister moved with an effortless speed that Yuuri had never been able to keep up with.  As a child, he’d loved helping his mother cook, but only when it was just the two of them.  Cooking for a constantly evolving room of strangers just wasn’t the same.

Here in the dress shop, things could get crazy too—although yesterday was pure insanity—but overall, it was just quieter.  Yuuri preferred it that way, where everything was more or less routine.  It was easier.

The coat ended up being a much simpler job than he’d worked it up to be.  He gently tested the repaired seam, and it held fast.

_Victor’s going to be happy with this_ , he thought with a grin.  _He should be back soon, I hope._

He hung the completed jacket on the rack designated for garments that were ready to be picked up.  After that, he set to his other repair jobs, which was about six pairs of pants, just as many shirts, and a child’s dress that needed letting out.  It would almost certainly take him the rest of the day.

People entered and left the dress shop throughout the day; Yuuri could hear the faint tingling of the bell and Minako’s warm greetings.  Each time, he listened to see if Victor had come back yet, but no such luck.  He watched the people walking in the street outside his window, scanning the traffic for a gaudy feathered hat.  Again, he was disappointed.

_He’ll come back when he comes back_ , he told himself, focusing on the torn elbow seam that had been driving him crazy for half an hour.  _Stop obsessing.  And what does it matter, anyway?  He’s just a customer._

He was so deep into his work that he barely noticed when Minako came back into the workroom.

“Yuuri!” she said, for what sounded like the second or third time. Yuuri’s head snapped up.

“What?” he asked.  “Minako, you scared me!”

“Sorry, sorry.”  Minako’s smile was as big as he had ever seen it.  “The bride and her mother are here to pick up the dress!  Do you want to come see how they like it?”

“Oh…um….”  Yuuri glanced over at the dress and felt a heavy ball of nerves well up inside him.  Normally, he would say yes.  Under regular circumstances, Yuuri loved seeing the reactions of commissioners.  The way their eyes lit up and the joy on their faces were unlike any sense of accomplishment he could feel on his own.  Whenever he got to see a customer actually wear her dress for the first time, it was even better.  To see somebody feel beautiful, truly beautiful beyond how they would ever have imagined, and to know that he helped them feel that way, it was indescribable.  He’d had young girls and older women alike jump into his arms or pick him up in a hug as their way of expressing their thanks.  In many ways, it was why he pushed himself as hard as he did.

But not this time.  He swallowed softly, looking at the blue silk shimmering so brilliantly in contrast to the white, and knew that he would really be letting it go this time.  Yuuri didn’t want to ruin the bride’s happiness by letting slip any degree of regret in his face.  He didn’t want to face watching it be taken away from him.

He forced a smile at Minako and gestured at the garment on the table.  “No thanks,” he said, the words almost impossible to push out.  “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on today.”

Minako’s expression softened, detecting the façade, but she chose not to press any further.  “All right,” she said.  “I’ll let you know what they think of it.”

Yuuri helped her get the dress off the dress form and into a protective garment bag made of muslin.  Minako carried it out to the shop, and Yuuri went back to his work and wished fervently that the mother and bride would just leave without saying anything.  He tried to force himself to not listen, but it was to no avail.

He could hear the delighted gasp and exclamations of the bride from the shop.  She sounded positively ecstatic, saying how it looked even better than she imagined, how excited she was to get married in it, how she was going to put it on and never take it off.  Even her mother sounded pleased; it was hard to believe it was the same woman who had screamed at Minako just a few weeks ago.

They were out there forever.  Yuuri could tell that the bride wanted to put the dress on and see herself, and he knew that he had made the right decision not going out there.  If he’d had to see somebody else in the silk that should have been his, he didn’t know what he would have done.  Nothing good, at least.

He struggled to keep his focus on the repairs.  At the very least, the customers liked it.  Better than hating the dress, wasn’t it?  Yuuri should be grateful; the silk would be getting the life it deserved now.

_It’s just some stupid cloth.  It’s not a thing, it doesn’t have a “life.”  Stop being ridiculous._

Eventually, the noise out in the shop disappeared, and the bride, her mother, and the dress were all gone.  Yuuri heard silence, then footsteps, and the door of the workroom opened slowly.

“Yuuri?”  It was Minako’s voice, soft and full of concern.  He didn’t look at her, didn’t stop his work.  She came to sit down beside him, and Yuuri wished that she would just go away.

“Yuuri,” she said again.  “What’s going on?”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  “Nothing.  I’m just tired.”  _This is embarrassing.  She must know I’m acting like a child about all this._

Minako sighed.  “If you really, truly don’t want to tell me, then I promise I won’t ask you again.  But I don’t want you to think that I’ll be upset with you, or laugh at you, or be disappointed in you.”

Yuuri slowly set the needle down on the table.  Before he knew it, tears were threatening to spill over, all on the shirt he was supposed to be fixing.  He closed his eyes and steeled himself from the inside, willing his heart to slow down, willing his composure to remain steady.  A few deep breaths, in and out, and he pictured Vicchan, the one true source of unconditional love, and the feeling of his small warm body in his arms, loving and comforting him even when true understanding between them was impossible.

He forced up a smile, and it almost felt genuine as he remembered the way Vicchan had crawled into his lap last night.  Early this morning?  It was hard to tell.

“I’m really all right,” Yuuri lied, directing his smile at Minako.  “I didn’t actually get any sleep last night, and I didn’t want the customer to see me like that.”

Something shifted in Minako’s face just then, and Yuuri was certain for an instant that she was going to call him out on his blatant lie.  But instead, she just smiled back at him, choosing to accept the falsehood, the reality that Yuuri had decided to construct.

“Okay,” she said.  “Well, listen…it’s just about noon, and I’m going to close the shop for an hour while we go get some lunch.”

“I’m all right here—”

“Yuuri,” Minako said, her smile widening and her eyes flashing fire.  “We’re going out to eat together.”

Yuuri felt the sharp, peculiar sting of Minako’s teacher tone in his chest, and he sheepishly nodded.  “…Okay.”

 

Yuuri went to the port fairly often, as he was frequently asked to run errands for his mother on his days off or even pick up an order for Minako if her hands were full.  It was almost always crowded and crawling with people, and full of endless voices and the constant screaming of seagulls.  He used to hate going there, especially when he was young and first allowed to go run errands without Mari.  These days, he had gotten used to the bustle.  If he had a task, a specific spot that he needed to go to and a specific person he needed to talk to, then he could get through it.  In a strange way, it was almost comforting now.  The vendors in their stalls and kiosks had gotten to know him over the years, and they’d grown used to Yuuri’s taciturn way of conversation.

The docks were lined with ships of all sizes:  from the smallest fishing boat up to the largest merchant galleons.  They came in bearing flags of all different colors, some from the farthest reaches of the sea, others from just up the coast.  As a child, Yuuri would love watching the ships appear over the horizon and slowly sail in, as well as the ones disappearing across the water for places he’d never know or see.  Back then, he’d tell himself that one day he would board one and go visit far-off places.  Now that he was older, Yuuri couldn’t imagine how he’d possibly manage it, and he’d let the desire drift out of his heart.

About half a mile down from where the ships came in and the stalls lined the walkway, there was long stretch of restaurants and stores.  This was where the merchants and sailors always came to do their drinking, gambling, and other carnal activities of their shore leave.  It was also where the best and freshest seafood in Hasetsu could be found.  The place Minako had chosen for them to eat at had a small dock in the back where fishermen could deliver directly to the kitchen, and the quality was unmatched.

Minako ordered two dozen oysters for her and Yuuri to share despite his protests that it was far too expensive.

“Nonsense, Yuuri,” Minako told him with a playful smack on his arm.  She was already halfway into her first beer.  “You worked hard yesterday and you’re still working hard today.  I’m allowed to do something for my favorite boy, aren’t I?”

He laughed as she leaned over and swung her arm over his shoulders.  Even though this place smelled of fish and was loud and hot, it was impossible to feel anything but at ease when he was doing just this:  taking a moment off work with Minako.  She could switch from a second mother to a second sister at a moment’s notice.

For the next hour, they talked, ate oysters, Minako drank, and Yuuri felt really, truly without worry.  He had never quite mastered the art of shucking oysters, and Minako made it look so easy, he could never understand what her secret was.  She gave him the same pointers she always did, and Yuuri would refuse her offer of simply doing it for him.  Minako told him that if he found a pearl inside, it meant their whole meal would be free.  He believed her for all of ten seconds before she burst out laughing at the look on his face.

They ended up staying out for far longer than they meant to.  Before either of them knew it, two hours had passed, and Minako nearly ran out before remembering to pay.  They walked back to the dress shop arm in arm.

 

Back at the shop, Yuuri finished up his repairs with renewed vigor.  Leaving the shop had actually done him quite a bit of good; he should have depended on Minako to sense something like that about him.  Thinking back on it, she put up with quite a lot from him.  Even Yuuri could admit that he was stubborn in all the wrong situations.

He hoped Victor hadn’t come by the shop while they were out.  Then again, Victor had been late coming back even before they left, so perhaps his errand had just taken longer than expected.  Yuuri glanced at the pink velvet coat on the other side of the room.  The sun was starting to reflect off all its bright buttons and jewels, and he blinked against the harsh shine.  When the sunlight hit the wall at that angle, Yuuri knew that the day was nearly over.  Time often got away from him, especially when he was this focused.

_I hope Victor’s okay…._

“All right, Yuuri.”  Minako came into the workroom with a heavy sigh.  “It’s been slow so I’ve closed up for the night.  You should go get some rest.  Come in a little late tomorrow if you need the extra sleep.”

“Okay,” he said.  “I just need to finish this seam and clean up.  I promise I’ll go home right after that,” he added upon seeing the look on Minako’s face.

“Good.  See you tomorrow, Yuuri.”

“Goodnight.”

Yuuri finished his last repair and snipped the thread with his scissors.  He leaned back and stretched, his arms high above his head, feeling his spine crack with relief.  _I really need to watch my posture._

The workroom was considerably less messy than yesterday, and he didn’t anticipate taking long to clean up.  Now that all his work was caught up, he was looking forward to getting a full night’s sleep.  He yawned, thinking that he would take Minako up on her offer of coming in late tomorrow morning.

He gathered his dust piles at the back door and opened it up, swinging out into the cool twilight air.  As he swept the dirt out into the yard, he heard a dog bark from somewhere close by.  Before he even had the chance to look up, something huge and furry crashed into him, sending him reeling backwards onto the floor.  Yuuri cried out, convinced he was about to get robbed or murdered, until he felt the insistent wet poke of a dog’s nose.

Yuuri gently pushed the dog away from his face, which was receiving a flurry of licks, and got back to his feet.  The dog was huge, at least compared to Vicchan, but looked remarkably similar to him.  Definitely the same breed, with the same puffs of brown fur.

The seizing fear of a few moments ago left him all at once, and he knelt down to scratch the dog’s head.  The dog moved closer, its stumpy tail wagging as it tilted its head to where it wanted Yuuri’s hand most.

“Hey you,” Yuuri laughed.  “You scared me.  Where’d you come from?”

The dog had an old, weathered pink bandana around its neck, and as Yuuri continued petting her, he saw it was made of velvet.

The realization sank in just as he heard a foreign voice calling out from around the corner.  Victor appeared in the door, out of breath, with a slight flush in his cheeks.

“Makkachin!” he exclaimed, dropping to his knees as the dog bounded over to him.  Victor hugged her and rubbed his face on the dog’s neck, rambling in a language Yuuri had never heard before.  He sounded like he was scolding the dog—Makkachin, Yuuri guessed—and speaking to her in the same silly baby talk Yuuri himself used with Vicchan.

Yuuri’s heart lifted straight into his throat.  He wanted to say something, to greet him, to do anything at all, but nothing seemed quite right.  So he just watched them, listening to the guttural language with the long, melodic vowels leaving Victor’s lips.  Victor was making sounds Yuuri didn’t think were even possible, but it was oddly beautiful in its strangeness.

Eventually, Victor stood up and smiled at him.  Yuuri gripped the handle of the broom tightly, feeling heat rush to his cheeks, and he managed a small grin back.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, his sapphire earrings shining as brightly as his eyes.  “I’m so glad you’re still here!  I’m sorry I’m late, I got distracted.”

“All day long?” Yuuri asked, stifling a giggle.

“Well.”  Victor chuckled.  “This is such a lovely town.  It’s been a while since I’ve been off the ship for so long.”

“I’m glad you like it.  The town, I mean.”  Yuuri set the broom aside and went to where the velvet jacket was hanging.

“This is ready for you,” he said, gingerly lifting it off the hanger, careful not to let any of the jewelry clang against each other.  He brought it over to Victor and handed it to him, averting his gaze towards the floor.  _I hope he likes it…._

“It’s beautiful!”  Victor grabbed the coat, eyes wide and smile wider, and swung it around his shoulders.  He spun in one short circle, letting the velvet fan out around him.  As he put his arms back into the sleeves, he checked the seam Yuuri had repaired.

“It’s like new again!  Yuuri, you’ve done such an excellent job, how can I ever repay you?”

“Two silvers will do it,” Yuuri replied with a teasing smirk.

“That’s it?”  Victor reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a bulging leather coin purse.  Yuuri felt his mouth go dry at the thought of how much money he must have in there.  Victor poked through its contents, coins jingling endlessly against each other as he frowned in deep concentration.  When he finally handed the money to Yuuri, in his palm were three gold coins.

“Oh—oh no, I said two silvers!” Yuuri protested, gently pushing Victor’s hand back.

“I know,” Victor replied.  “I heard you.”

Yuuri glanced down at the coins—about half the cost of the wedding dress they’d just sold—and back up to Victor, searching for some signal that he was joking.  Victor’s eyes remained serious, sparkling in anticipation as he waited for Yuuri to accept.

“Victor…” Yuuri said softly.  “This is too much.  The repair only took me thirty minutes.”

“Yes, but I was away all day.  I have to pay you for that too, don’t I?”

“No, you really don’t, and please, you can’t ask me to accept this.  Minako—the owner—she’ll notice, and ask me where it came from, and what am I supposed to tell her?”

Victor frowned and closed his fingers around the coins, bringing his fist up to his chin as he began to contemplate something.  “I can understand that dilemma.”  He paused for another moment, and then gasped sharply.  “I’ve got it!”

Victor held the coins back out to Yuri with a flourish.  “Yuuri, I’d like to commission you for a custom-made garment,” he announced gleefully.

“Wh—what?”  Yuuri felt like his head was spinning.  From second to second, Victor bewildered him at every turn.

“I insist.  I’ve been thinking about the dresses here all day; they’re gorgeous, Yuuri, and I want to see what else you can do.”

“But I told you, I don’t design these.  They’re all my teacher’s.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to make something of your own, though?”

Yuuri thought of his ruined dress, sitting in the dark corner of his room.  The dress that would never be finished, that would only stand as a testament to his inability to change anything.  He swallowed and gazed at the floor.  “I have,” he admitted quietly.

“And don’t you think you could do it?”

Yuuri looked up to meet Victor’s eyes, and the expression in them was such a soft patience, the gentlest warmth.  He glanced down at the money again.

_With that much, I could buy another cut of silk._   But the thought left his mind almost immediately.  The money should be saved, and at least some of it should go to his parents.  It was the responsible thing to do.

“I guess…” he said cautiously, “I guess I could give it a try.”

“You will?!”  Victor looked thrilled.

Yuuri nodded, unable to hold back a grin at Victor’s reaction.

“Yes, Yuuri, this is amazing!  Let’s start right now!”

“Wh—” Yuuri stammered as Victor ran to grab a stool and drag it next to Yuuri’s seat at the window, “what do you mean right now?”

“I want to discuss the details of my commission with you,” Victor said matter-of-factly, sitting himself down.  Makkachin came over to him, her tail wagging insistently, but Victor gestured for her to go back outside.  Which she did, but not without some amount of consternation.

“Wait, hold on just a minute,” said Yuuri, struggling to keep his thoughts in order.  “I only know how to do dresses.”

“Yes?  And what if I wanted a dress?”

Yuuri’s breath hitched as he imagined Victor wearing one of Minako’s gowns, the image flashing briefly into his mind and sending giddy heat throughout his whole body.  He shook it off as quickly as he could.  “I-I mean…if you _want_ , but….”

Victor laughed.  “Maybe another time,” he said with a wink.  “No, but what I want is a new coat.  This one is my favorite, but as you can imagine, velvet doesn’t exactly breathe.  With the weather getting warmer, I need something lighter.  I have it all planned out in my mind the way I want it.”

“Well,” said Yuuri as he sat down beside him.  “I could make you a coat if you want, but it might take me a little longer.  I’ve never really made one before.”

“There’s no rush!  I’m willing to wait as long as you need.  Now.”  Victor reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded and crumpled piece of paper.  He smoothed it out and placed it on the table between them.

It was a pencil drawing of Victor, his braid waving in the wind as he stood at the bow of a large ship.  He wore a coat with a simple yet striking design, with two lines of three large buttons down the breast, and long, wide tails that flowed out behind him.  A great amount of detail had been put into the folds of the cloth, as well as the intricacies of rigging and sails in the background.  It was rather well-drawn, all things considered.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about the designing of clothes,” Victor admitted, “but I think that should be a good base for you to work off of.”

Yuuri glanced at the drawing and his lips twisted as he tried not to start laughing.  “Is this supposed to be you, Victor?”

“What, this?”  Victor picked the drawing up again and peered closely at it.  “No, no, it’s a character I made up.  Why do you think it’s me?”

Yuuri couldn’t help but let the giggle break free.  “No reason.  Um…may I make a suggestion?”

“Of course!”

“A style like this would work best with wool, or some kind of thicker fabric, I think.  If you want something cooler for summer, I could probably make this into a vest.”

Victor’s eyes went wide.  “A vest!  Yes, that’s a much better idea!  Could you still give me this bit back here on a vest?”  He pointed to the tails on the sketch.  “What are these called, by the way?”

“They’re called tails.  And yes, I can do that, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want!”  Victor reached into his pocket again—Yuuri could hardly believe he could fit so much in there—and pulled out a rubber eraser and a pencil.  He rubbed away the arms on his drawing and then meticulously, with deep concentration and practiced speed, redrew the coat into a sleeveless vest.  “How’s that?”

“Very dashing,” Yuuri laughed.

Yuuri thought he imagined it at first, believing it to just be the sunburn on Victor’s face, but he could see just the smallest hint of color on his cheeks.  In the space of an instant, Victor looked at him with an expression Yuuri had never seen directed at him before.  Like Victor had been looking for some sign of approval, and received it, and was unsure of exactly what to do next.

But it was only the barest glance shared between them, and before Yuuri could put any proper thought into what it could mean, Victor was speaking again.

“I know it’s late, so I won’t keep you too long.”  Victor looked at the work table behind them, scanning up and down its length, and leapt to his feet.  He grabbed a length of measuring tape and offered it out to Yuuri.  “How about we just do measurements now and discuss the details tomorrow morning?”

Yuuri looked at the measuring tape, then up at Victor, and the blush ran all the way up to his ears as the realization sunk in.  “…Measurements,” he repeated.  “Of course.”

He took the measuring tape, hoping Victor couldn’t feel the slight tremble in his hands, and stood up.  “You should, um…take off your coat.”

“Yes, of course.”  Victor shrugged off the velvet coat, removed his hat as well, and set both on the table.  He reached for the button on his shirt and asked, “This too?”

“A-ah, no, no, leave that on!” Yuuri exclaimed.  “You, um…you want the vest to fit over the shirt, right?  I need to take the measurements over it.”

“Oh, right.  That does make sense.”  He smiled and lifted his arms.  “How would you like me?”

Yuuri swallowed.  “That’s fine, just like that.”

He had taken measurements on so many people before, had seen women of all ages stripped down to their undergarments as he wrapped measuring tape around every inch of their bodies, and he had never once felt as hyperaware as he did in this moment.  While Minako’s specialty was dresses, she had done a few suits and jackets in the past, and Yuuri knew how she measured men for their sizes as well.  Yuuri never liked to take men’s measurements, but he had always chalked it up to being self-conscious of his own chubby body in comparison to theirs.  Walking up into Victor’s personal space, Yuuri wondered now if his dislike had actually been something else.

Yuuri could swear his heartbeat was echoing throughout the room.  The first measurement was around Victor’s chest, just beneath his armpits.  Taking a breath, Yuuri reached around his torso, taking the measuring tape in his free hand behind Victor’s back, and wrapped it gently around him.  If he had been just a hairsbreadth closer, he would have been embracing him.  Victor’s body heat was coming through the cotton shirt as Yuuri placed the end of the measuring tape in place.  He was intoxicatingly warm, and rich with the scent of the sea.

“Okay, you can…you can put your arms down,” Yuuri said, willing his voice to stay steady.  He couldn’t look up at Victor; he kept his eyes trained on the numbers in front of him.  “Just let them hang naturally.”

Victor obeyed, and when his voice came, it was soft.  “Like this?”

Yuuri nodded.  “Yes, that’s good.”  He quickly stepped away after getting the reading and scribbled the number down on a nearby scrap of paper.  He’d organize it all later.

He turned back to Victor, still unable to look at him.  “Waist is next.”

Victor lifted his arms up again as Yuuri repeated the same motion of wrapping the tape around him.  Yuuri had to lean down just a little to position it correctly, and he became aware of how much taller than him Victor was.  Almost an entire head taller.

“Feel free to take off a few inches,” Victor chuckled above him.  “I ate before I came here.”

Yuuri was glad Victor couldn’t see his smile.  “I’ll keep it in mind.  But a little extra space is good so you can still breathe.”

He recorded Victor’s waist size, and stepped back for the final measurement.  There was a weird mixture of relief and regret that this would soon be over.

“If you don’t mind…I just need to measure down your back…” Yuuri mumbled.

“Of course!” said Victor as he turned around.  His silver braid hung down behind him, and Yuuri noticed for the first time that the string tying the end of it was adorned with what looked like a white bead.  Only when he stepped closer did he realize it was a pearl.

“Let me just….”  Yuuri took Victor’s braid gingerly in his hand, barely touching it, afraid that his hands might somehow dull the shine of it, and pushed it back over his shoulder.  Victor’s hair was soft, so impossibly soft, exactly the same sensation as silk under his fingers.  He thought he saw the hint of gooseflesh on the back of Victor’s neck, but it was probably just the sudden exposure to cooler air, nothing more.

Yuuri held one end of the tape at the base of Victor’s neck and pulled the rest down to his waist.  Victor’s back was _solid_ , he realized with a shiver.  It was no surprise, as all sailors were muscular, but Yuuri had never gotten the opportunity to actually touch a sailor’s back.  It radiated the sense of underlying, overwhelming strength, steady and sturdy like the boulders off the coast.  Yuuri could feel the vertebrae of Victor’s spine as he held the tape close, ending just above his hips.  Yuuri lifted his eyes and took in the width of Victor’s broad shoulders, and how his whole torso converged into a perfect triangular silhouette.

He swallowed again—hopefully not so loud that Victor could hear him—and read the final measurement at the bottom of the tape.  He absolutely refused to let his eyes drift any further down than that.

“All done,” he said as he wrote down the number.  He was endlessly grateful that his voice had held together.

Victor turned back to face him, smiling wide.  This time, Yuuri was absolutely certain he wasn’t seeing things:  Victor was blushing.

“That’s all?” he asked.  “That was quick.”

“I didn’t need much.”

Victor put his hat and coat back on, saying, “I’d better be on my way.  If it’s all right with you, I’d like to come back tomorrow to talk about the details.  What would be a good time for you?”

“Anytime is okay,” Yuuri said, writing Victor’s name across the top of the scrap paper, and the word “vest” in parentheses.  “I’m here all day.”

“Are you sure?  I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

Yuuri shook his head.  “People come in here unannounced all the time.  I’m used to it.”

“Very well.”  Victor buttoned up his coat and picked up the drawing.  He hesitated for a moment, then held it out to Yuuri.  “You can, uh…you can keep this.”

“Oh.”  Yuuri had never heard Victor sound uncertain.  There was a bit of tension in Victor’s eyes as he waited for Yuuri to accept the paper, and Yuuri could see that his blush hadn’t quite gone away.  “Thank you.”

As he took it, Victor appeared to let out a breath.  “Wonderful!  I will be back tomorrow, then.”  He headed for the back door, and as he turned back towards Yuuri, he removed his hat and swung it across his middle, bowing low in one smooth motion.

Yuuri placed a hand to his mouth to hide his stupid-looking grin.

“Until tomorrow,” Victor said.  He winked as he placed his hat back atop his head, and he and Makkachin disappeared around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments below, it would make my day <3
> 
> I'll try to update this fic with some regularity, at least once a week on Saturdays or Sundays. I can't promise anything of course, but that's the goal in any case. If I can't update on those days, I'll be sure to let you all know on my [tumblr](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com) or my [twitter!](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little bit of a shorter chapter this week, guys, sorry! I was out of town on Saturday and didn't get as much time as usual to work on things. I'll make it up to you next week <3 In the meantime, please enjoy!

_“I want to know what it takes to find_  
_Some peace of mind_  
_There where I want to be”_

_-_ “ _Caught in the Middle”_

 

“You seem to be in a better mood today, Yuuri.”  Mari grinned at him from across the dinner table, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Huh?  Do I?”  Yuuri smiled back sheepishly; thinking back on it, he had been unable to keep the smile off his face all evening.  He’d hoped nobody would notice, but Mari was well attuned to his moods.  She always had been.

Mari said nothing in response, only took a drink from her soup bowl while flashing him a look.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Yuuri,” his mother said, her round face reddened from the day’s exertion in the kitchen.  “I was starting to worry you might be sick.”

“No, I’m all right, Mom.”  Yuuri glanced at his mother’s disheveled hair, strands flying every which way out of her bun.  He reached over and gently tucked some of it behind her ear, the same old guilt creeping up on him as he did so.

“You’ve been working a lot more these days,” said his father.  “You should try to take some time off.  Maybe try to meet a girl?”

“Dad,” Yuuri replied with some exasperation as his father laughed.  “It’s not that bad.  And I like working.”

“I know you do.  Your mother and I just worry about your health.”

Yuuri forced a smile, the twisting maelstrom of guilt eating away at his good mood.  He knew what his parents were trying to say.  Every month or so, they would ask the same question a new way.  _When will you come work at the restaurant?_

It made sense, at least on paper.  If Yuuri were there, they would probably make more money.  As it was now, the void left behind by Yuuri’s absence was being filled by Minami, a young boy in town who his parents paid for part-time work a few times a week.  They could never afford him full-time, even though he would have jumped at the chance in a heartbeat.  Minami did much better work than Yuuri would ever have, so for a while after they’d taken him on, Yuuri had felt a deep weight lift from his heart.  But later, he’d found out that sometimes Minami didn’t come at all on the days they couldn’t pay him.  The depths of his selfishness’s impact had only worsened since then.

Despite it all, he still couldn’t bring himself to leave Minako’s dress shop.  He brought home money of course, but not enough to make a significant difference.  It was still just day to day, month to month for his parents.  And with the piracy off the coast getting worse all the time, it was only a matter of time before there was real trouble.

_I just have to try harder,_ he told himself, looking deeply into his soup.  _This commission from Victor is just what I need.  If he likes it, maybe he’ll want something else, too.  It’ll be all right…I just can’t mess it up._

 

The next day was clear and warm, with the barest of breezes in the air.  Yuuri was in the backyard of the dress shop, with a wide, heavy smock tied to his body and old gloves all the way up to his elbow.  Today was a perfect day for dyeing, and there was plenty to do.  There were some curtains that had faded out from sunlight, a stained dress, and an old woolen blanket that needed new life breathed into it.  Yuuri didn’t often get the opportunity to do the dyeing, as it was usually Minako’s task, but she insisted on him getting out of the workroom and into the fresh air.

He was grateful for it.  Out in the yard, there was no noise except for the distant chatter of road traffic, the seagulls, and the wind.  He had his dye basins along the outside wall of the dress shop, a metal stock pot full of boiling water, and the clotheslines lined up in the grass.  It was messy work, but gratifying in a way.

Minako knew a little about how make dye, though it was normally just cheaper to buy it already made, and she had imparted what she knew onto Yuuri.  He didn’t think he had enough of an eye for color to make his own, but it was fascinating nonetheless.  Minako also told him of dyeing techniques she’d seen in her distant travels, how people could dye patterns straight into the fabric, pictures and textures and all sorts of color mixtures.  Yuuri would have loved the chance to work with such a fabric, but something told him it wasn’t likely to come to pass.

He lifted the curtain out of the basin, letting the red dye drip off in long rivulets back into the warm water.  He gently squeezed the remaining moisture from the cloth and brought it to the clothesline.  The smell of the dye was strong and warm, a distinct and familiar scent.  Yuuri used to hate the smell, but he’d grown to associate it with a sense of peace these days.

As he went back to grab the second curtain, he heard the sound of a dog bark.  Yuuri instantly jolted up, his skin prickling with anticipation, and turned just in time to see Makkachin with her paws on the fence.  She barked again, her tail wagging wildly, and Victor came running up the road.

“Makkachiiiin,” he whined, out of breath.  “How many times have I told you to not run away like that?”

Makkachin turned her attention to Victor, hopping down from the fence and pushing her nose into his legs.  Victor reached down and rubbed her head, muttering to her in that strange deep language again.

“Hi Victor,” Yuuri called, lifting a dye-stained, gloved hand and waving at him.  As soon as he’d done it, he felt like the most ridiculous fool.  _I must look like such a mess…and I sounded so stupid just now, “Hi Victor”?  What was I thinking?_

“Yuuri!”  Victor replied, his face lighting up in that way Yuuri had come to enjoy seeing.  He also enjoyed, as he was now realizing, the way Victor said his name.  “Good morning!”

“Good morning.”  Yuuri smiled, deeply aware of how messy and unkempt he must look.  “Uh…I’m sorry, I’m dyeing today so…I’m a bit dirty.”

“No need to apologize.  It’s a lovely day for it.”

“Yeah…it is.”  Yuuri stood there for a moment, simply smiling back at Victor, and was abruptly reminded of the other curtain in the vat.  He quickly dug it out before the color could darken too far, squeezing the excess out into the warm water.

“That’s a beautiful color,” Victor called from the street, leaning with his forearms on the fence.

“Thank you,” Yuuri replied, despite not having chosen the color, nor having anything to do with the quality of the color.  He couldn’t understand why he kept saying ridiculous things.

“I spent my morning down at the port looking for some pigments, but I didn’t see any dye vendors there.  Did you make this yourself?”

“Oh, no, not me.  Minako does from time to time.  Dye can be hard to come by these days.  The piracy, you know.”  Yuuri brushed his gloves off down the front of his smock.  The curtains would take the longest to dry and mostly likely wouldn’t be done until later that evening.  Next was the dress, which was to be dyed a darker shade of green to cover up the large food stain on the front.

Victor laughed.  “Is that so?  That’s a shame.”

As Yuuri lowered the dress into the simmering dye bath, he said, “It is…but I’ve heard it’s worse in other places than it is here, so I shouldn’t complain.”

“Nonsense.”  Yuuri looked up and Victor’s face was oddly serious.  “Trouble is trouble, and it doesn’t matter if it’s better or worse somewhere else.  Otherwise, you’d have to look for the one person in the world who really has the worst life of all, poor bastard.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but giggle.  “I guess that’s true.”

Victor’s expression softened as he watched Yuuri laugh, and after a while, Yuuri once again found himself feeling silly.  He turned his face away and picked up the wooden spoon designated for this dye vat.  He stirred the dress around in the dark green liquid, angling his face and glasses away from the softly rising steam.

“I, um…” he said nervously, “I’ll be a few more hours at this.  I don’t want to keep you waiting around, so if you want to go inside and talk to Minako about the details of your commission, she’d be more than happy to help you.”

Victor looked towards the dress shop, a look of deep consideration on his face.  Eventually, he shrugged, looked back to Yuuri, and said, “I’d rather wait.”

Yuuri felt his heart stutter, and the alien emotion of indescribable happiness welled up within him.  “…Okay,” he said at length.  “Um…if you want, you can…you can come wait inside here…”  His voice trailed off pitifully as he spoke, realizing too late that that was probably the very last thing Victor wanted to do.  It was dirty and full of odd dye smells in the yard; Victor wouldn’t want any of that clinging to his nice coat.

Instead, Victor stood up straight instantly, and Yuuri was reminded of the way Vicchan’s attention was instantly roused when presented with the promise of a walk.  “Am I allowed?”

Yuuri nodded once.  “Sure…if you want.”

Victor broke out into a gleeful smile.  Bracing his hat atop his head with one hand, he placed the other on the fence and vaulted over it in one smooth, graceful leap.  On the other side of the fence, Makkachin barked, and was only quieted as Victor reached over and patted her on the head.  After pacing a few more times, she eventually laid down facing out towards the street.

“She’s very obedient,” Yuuri observed.  “I wish my dog would listen to me like that.”

“You have a dog too?”  Victor’s eyes glittered with piqued interest.  “What’s its name?”

“Vicchan.  He’s still a puppy.  …He looks a lot like your dog, actually.”

“He does?” Victor gasped.  “Can I meet him?”

Yuuri suppressed a giggle.  “I guess, if you’d like….”

“One day I would love to.”  Victor scouted out a shady spot up against the outside of the shop and sat down.  He took off his hat and shook his head from side to side, stray silver strands of hair tossed out of his eyes.

“I won’t bother you while you work,” he said, reaching into an inside coat pocket and pulling out what looked like a small notebook.  “Just pretend I’m not even here.”

Yuuri couldn’t think of any task more impossible.  But he just nodded, said, “Okay,” and continued his dyeing.

For the next two hours, Victor kept true to his word and didn’t disrupt or distract him.  Yuuri was painfully aware of his every move, careful not to do anything that might be the slightest bit embarrassing, like accidentally rub dye on his face or some such nonsense.  Every time he stole a glance in Victor’s direction, the man was concentrating deeply on his notebook, a pencil gripped in his slender, bejeweled fingers.  Once or twice, he thought he might have caught Victor staring, but he was certain he’d imagined it.

When he had hung the last of the fabrics to dry, Yuuri pulled off his gloves and looked over at Victor.  He turned his face away, hiding behind the still damp red curtains on the line, and wracked his brain.  His chest felt tight, and he couldn’t understand why.  The only thing close to this feeling was when he getting to make the most luxurious and complex dresses with Minako.

Excitement, maybe?  …But over what?

Yuuri peeked around the curtain again.  Victor’s head was down in the book, shutting out the whole world except for what was before him.

_I shouldn’t bother him…what if he thinks I’m being nosy?_

Then again, Yuuri needed to talk to Victor anyway, since there was now the matter of the commission to discuss.  It would be normal for him to go over there, wouldn’t it?

Yuuri took a deep breath and walked towards him as casually as he could muster.  Victor looked up as he approached and smiled.  Yuuri felt warm all over.

“Um…I’m all finished for now,” Yuuri said, his voice barely steady.

“Good!  Everything looks lovely, Yuuri.  Truly a beautiful array of colors.”  Victor sounded entirely genuine, and Yuuri subconsciously relaxed.

“Thank you,” he replied softly.

“I think you’ve earned a break.”  Victor moved a few inches to the side.  “Come, have a seat.”

“All right.”  Yuuri sat down beside him, just now realizing how stiff and sore his backs and shoulders were.  The shade and the grass were cool, and Yuuri sighed out in relief.  He leaned back and rested his head against the dress shop wall, closing his eyes and emptying his brain of all thought.  There was salt and perfume in the breeze, sweet and comforting.

“You’re a very hard worker, Yuuri,” Victor said quietly.  Yuuri opened his eyes and saw Victor looking right at him, an expression of fascination and a little fondness on his face.

“Oh.”  Yuuri didn’t think he’d ever been this close to Victor before.  At least, never this close while really looking at him.  In the shade of the dress shop wall, Victor’s eyes shone brilliantly even in the dim light.  There was a mystery in them somewhere, and yet the deepest earnestness, in that Yuuri didn’t believe this man could truly hide anything.  “I don’t work that hard, not really.  Everybody here does.”

“I have noticed that about this town.  But you…there’s something a little different in you, the way you work.  Like….”  Victor trailed off, averting his eyes as he searched for the words.  “Like there’s something else you’re working for besides money.”  He smiled.  “Yuuri, this is truly a passion of yours, isn’t it?”

Yuuri was instantly flustered, his lips moving without sound, and he drew his knees up to his chest and covered his face with his hands.  “I—I guess, I don’t…I don’t know!” he stammered, feeling impossibly stupid.

When he heard Victor’s laugh, it was gentle and free of any cruelty.  “I’m not making fun of you, Yuuri.  It’s something wonderful about you.  At least, that’s what I think.”

Yuuri could have sworn his heart stopped for five whole beats.  He peeked out from behind his hands at Victor, who was only smiling, a look that Yuuri had come to grow extremely fond of, and Yuuri felt as though he could cry.  _Wonderful…about_ me _?_

“I don’t know about that,” he all but whispered.  _What could be wonderful about a son who abandons his family for his own selfish pleasure?_

“Well, I’m quite sure of it.  That’s why I’d rather have nobody else to make my dashing vest.”  Victor bumped his shoulder against Yuuri’s playfully, and despite everything, Yuuri let out a ragged laugh.

“Right,” said Yuuri, relaxing his shoulders.  “We should go in and get started on that.  You’ve already waited so long for me, I don’t want to keep you.”

“Yuuri, do I look like I’m a busy person?”  Victor raised an eyebrow at him.

“…Not particularly.”

“Let’s take a few more minutes here.  Besides, I’m almost done with this sketch.”

As Victor held the notebook open wider, Yuuri peered inside and was instantly awed.  Across both pages was a single scene of what was immediately recognizable as the yard.  Victor had drawn it in perfect detail from his perspective on the ground, including the clothes on the line swaying in the breeze with expertly penciled folds.  Even the grass had detail, and the vats of dye with all their nuances intact, like the dents that had been there for years.

Yuuri caught his breath as he saw the figure standing by the clothesline.  Its expression was intense, focused, and calm all at once as it lifted one edge of a blanket to the line.  It stood not in the center of the drawing, but positioned so that every element in the picture drew the eye straight to it.  The person could only have been Yuuri; Victor had drawn his face with care and attention, with the unmistakable aura of a master at work on his craft.

He had almost missed it, but the sketched Yuuri was smiling too.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Victor said warily as Yuuri took it all in.  “I don’t mean to be intrusive.”

“No, no at all!”  Yuuri looked back up at Victor and saw the uncertainness in his eyes again, the same expression as when he’d offered Yuuri his other drawing yesterday.  Was he embarrassed about them?  Did he think the drawings were no good?  Why wouldn’t he be anything but confident in a talent like this?

“It’s…” Yuuri continued, “it’s beautiful.  I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course!  I mean, I draw my dress ideas but I could never do anything like this.”

Victor blushed, his entire face going red, and he giggled.  “Thank you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri paused a moment and looked down at the grass.  “Would it be all right if I…if I watched you finish it?”

“I’ve never drawn with an audience before.”

“If it’ll bother you then I won’t look,” Yuuri blurted out.

“No, no, that’s…it’s all right with me.”

Yuuri paused again.  “…Can I come a little closer?”  It felt like his chest would burst into flames.

“Sure.”  Victor’s smile was like salve to his ever-tightening nerves.  Yuuri moved the barest inch closer, hardly closing the gap at all.

Victor scooted towards him until their shoulders touched.  Yuuri swallowed as he felt the solid muscle of Victor’s arm through the coat.  He closed his hands into fists to keep them from trembling, and silently watched Victor continue drawing.

The pencil moved with practiced grace over the pages.  Victor’s lines were soft and then solid, sometimes lightly ghosting against the paper and sometimes deliberate and with resolve.  Yuuri watched it all with rapt attention, taking in every motion and decision Victor made with the shapes.  He couldn’t keep up, couldn’t quite understand the thought process, but was fascinated nonetheless.  Yuuri never thought about anything other than putting designs on paper; to make an entire scene like this, with emotion and an unwritten story, was worlds away from what Yuuri was capable of himself.

Yuuri chanced a glimpse at Victor’s face; his eyelids were slightly hooded as he concentrated, breathing softly through his nostrils and keeping his lips tightly closed.  Victor had the lightest blonde eyelashes, long and gracefully curved.  The skin of his pale cheek looked far too smooth for a sailor’s face, and even the sunburn across his cheekbones hardly seemed a blemish.  The scent of perfume rolled off him like a river, fresher than spring flowers.

In time, the picture came together and Victor pulled his pencil away.  He looked down at the paper, seeing more than Yuuri could.  Eventually, he smiled and angled the book for Yuuri to better see.

“All done,” he said.

Yuuri tried to make himself look down at the book, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Victor’s face.  He knew he was staring, he knew it was painfully obvious, but the crushing weight of realization was paralyzing him.

Victor was the most beautiful person Yuuri had ever seen, and he couldn’t look away.  He didn’t want to look away.  In some deep part of him, he knew what that meant.  It scared him too much to bear.

“Yuuri?” Victor asked, tilting his head to one side.  “Are you all right?”

“U-uh, yeah.  Yes, I’m fine.”  Yuuri shook it off, staring down at the drawing, if just to force himself to stop gaping at Victor.  “It’s…it’s really good.”

“You think so?”

“Of course.  You’re very talented, Victor.”

There was a breath of a pause before Victor spoke again.  “Thank you, Yuuri.  That means a lot.”

Yuuri nodded and hastily got to his feet.  He untied the smock and placed it in the pile with the gloves.  He would come back and wash them later.  “Shall we go in and talk about the commission?” he asked, trying to collect himself.

“Yes, an excellent idea!”  Victor snapped the book shut and stood up.

 

Yuuri distracted himself from where his thoughts most wanted to go as best he could.  He immersed himself in listening to Victor’s specific requests, all while keeping Victor as much out of his line of sight as possible.  If he lingered on Victor’s face too long, he felt the warmth creeping up from within, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything whatsoever.  So he just wrote down Victor’s every word, no matter what it was, with the thought that the two of them could edit it later.

About twenty minutes into the consultation, the workroom door opened and Minako poked her head inside, frowning in deep confusion.  She scanned the room, her gaze eventually landing on Victor, and said, “…Hello?  Yuuri, who’s this?”

“Oh!” Yuuri exclaimed, leaping up and knocking his notes to the floor.  “Minako, this is…um…I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to tell you he was here….”

How could he have forgotten that Minako was just in the other room, hadn’t even met Victor, and hadn’t known anything about the commission at all?  Yuuri was normally so good at letting her know everything.  Now she would think he was hiding something on purpose.

Victor waved at Minako with a friendly grin.  “Hi!”

“Uh…hi,” she replied, mustering up a smile of her own.  “I’m sorry, you just caught me by surprise.  Are you the gentlemen whose coat Yuuri repaired the other day?”

“Yes!”  Victor lifted up his arm, showing Minako the repaired seam.  “He does amazing work.  I wanted to pay him extra but he wasn’t having it, so I’m being forced to commission something instead.”  He shrugged.  “Really, my hands were tied.”

Minako smirked.  “Yuuri, you didn’t tell me you had a commissioner.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri apologized, picking up his scattered papers from the floor.  “I wasn’t keeping it from you on purpose.”

“No, Yuuri, I’m saying I’m proud of you!  Satisfying a customer to the point they want more from you is the greatest feeling, isn’t it?”

Yuuri nodded sheepishly.

Victor laughed.  “Nobody has satisfied me quite like Yuuri has.”  He winked at him, almost too quick to catch, and Yuuri wanted to melt into the floor and die.

“Well, I won’t keep you.  And uh…what was your name, sir?”

“Victor, madam,” he replied, tipping his hat.  “And I imagine you are Minako.  Yuuri has told me all about his lovely teacher.”  Minako giggled, blushing brightly.

“Very nice to meet you, Victor.  You’re in very good hands with Yuuri.”  The bell on the front door jingled, and she quickly excused herself.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said quietly once they were alone.  “I completely forgot to introduce you.”

“It’s quite all right.  She seems like a very pleasant woman.”

“She is.”  A pause.  “She’s taught me everything I know.”

“Then I approve of her.”

Yuuri looked up and smiled.  “Thank you.  I’m glad.”

They discussed details for a while longer.  There wasn’t much to Victor’s design in the first place, but he kept changing his mind.  At first, the vest was going to be black, then black with accents of gold, then entirely gold, then gold and red…Yuuri eventually suggested they first focus on what type of fabric Victor wanted, then they could decide color later based on the options.

Victor went through every bolt of fabric in the workroom, inspecting each one with intense scrutiny.  Some weren’t the right shade, some not the right texture, some were a good texture but were patterned, and others didn’t have enough yardage left.  It took almost an hour, all told, for Victor to completely veto every last piece in the shop.

“Well, this won’t do,” Victor announced, stepping back and setting his hands on his hips.

“You have to pick _something_ ,” Yuuri said, desperately trying to keep the impatience from his voice.

“There’s only one thing to do.  Yuuri, come shopping with me.”

“What?” 

“It has to be perfect, and I don’t like anything here.  Shopping is the only thing left to do.”

“Victor, I can’t go out shopping right now.  I still have to work.”

Victor touched his chin thoughtfully, staring down at the floor.  He was quiet for so long Yuuri began to worry that he had accidentally offended him.  Eventually, Victor looked back up with a small, contented smile.

“All right, then that settles it.  Yuuri, when is your next day off?”

“I—excuse me?”  Yuuri blinked at him.  “I don’t really—I mean, I don’t exactly….”  _Is he asking what I think he is?_

Victor watched him patiently, that soft smile and understanding eyes never faltering.  Yuuri swallowed and nervously fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeves.  “I—I guess…I don’t have to come in tomorrow….”

“Would you like to go to the clothier with me tomorrow and help me find some fabric?”  Victor’s voice was so gentle and free of any judgment.

Yuuri swallowed again, and as he spoke, his whole face flared up with heat.  “…S-sure.”

“It’s settled!  I will meet you there and we’ll look for something together.”  Victor clapped his hands in delight.  “Ah, I can feel the excitement, Yuuri!  It’s all coming together.”

Yuuri smiled shyly.  “It is a nice feeling.  To go from an idea on paper to seeing it come to life.”

“It is.  I can see why you’re drawn to it.”  Victor collected his coat and hat, which had been removed during his rampage through the shop’s fabrics, and slipped them back on.  “I shall leave you to the rest of your day’s work, then.  You’ve been a great help to me, Yuuri.”

“Just…just doing my job,” replied Yuuri.

“And it is an excellent job that you do.”  Victor winked.  “I will meet you at the clothier’s shop tomorrow.”

Yuuri smiled, feeling a wave of gratitude come over him.  “I…look forward to it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say again how much I appreciate your feedback and beautiful comments <3 You guys are the reason I keep writing and keep trying to improve, and I love all of you for letting me share this story with you. There's a lot more in store and I'm excited to let you guys see what I have envisioned for this AU!

_“Oh yonder there's a ship on the ocean_  
_And she does not know which way to steer_  
 _From the east and the west she's a'blowing_  
 _She reminds me of the charms of my dear”_

_\-- “Kellswater”_

 

Yuuri may have had the day off from the dress shop, but he still had work to do.  On his free days, he would often go to the market for his parents to pick up anything they needed for the kitchen.  It was the least he could do for not helping out in any other way, and Yuuri was able to carry more things on his own than his parents or sister could.  Today, however, it seemed they had run out of everything all at once.  The shopping list was enormous, and Yuuri’s mother had told Minami to accompany him on his errands.

Yuuri didn’t mind his parents’ part-timer; in fact, he was more than grateful to him for at least being able to take some of the workload off them.  Yet Minami was always inordinately happy to see Yuuri whenever he came in to work.  Yuuri could never understand why.  Minami was always asking him questions, telling him about his day, giving him compliments about innocuous things…it was bizarre.

He’d asked Mari about it once, just to see if she knew something he didn’t.  Mari had only shrugged and said, “Maybe he’s got a crush on you,” with a cheeky side-eyed look.  Yuuri didn’t believe that for a second, and so he resigned himself to just being confused.

The list that he and Minami were tasked with was staggeringly long.  Yuuri looked over it with a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach.  He’d been hoping to get the shopping done quickly so he could go meet Victor at the clothier, but that was looking unlikely.  The thought of making Victor wait, or even worse, not showing up at all, made Yuuri sick to even consider.

“Are you ready to go, Yuuri?” Minami asked, practically bouncing up and down by the door.  He had empty bags and baskets thrown over his shoulder and hanging off his arms.  Yuuri suppressed a laugh at the comical sight of him.

“Yes, let’s go,” he said, relieving Minami of a few of the baskets.  “Let’s make this as quick as we can so you can get back.”  _And so I can get to the clothier._

The vegetable stands were the first stop, and where they needed to purchase most of the things on the nearly endless list.  With spring in full force, Yuuri’s mother was taking full advantage of the mountain vegetables that came in to the market, and she needed replenishment on almost all of them.  Bamboo shoots, wasabi mustard greens, asparagus, and several others Yuuri simply didn’t understand how to cook with at all.  Yuuri had always known his mother was unmatched when it came to adjusting her cooking with the seasons; it was one of the biggest draws to their restaurant in the first place.  It was his mother’s greatest passion, despite all that it took out of her, and Yuuri wanted her to have that forever.

Yuuri tried to ignore how Minami stared, almost rapt, every time he thought Yuuri wasn’t looking.  It made absolutely no sense; Mari’s words always came back to Yuuri every time he noticed it.  _Maybe he’s got a crush on you._

It was a ridiculous notion.  Why would Minami, a cheerful, hardworking boy, have any interest whatsoever in chubby Yuuri Katsuki, a dressmaker who couldn’t even make his own dresses?  Especially when there were so many other youths in town closer to his age and more pleasant to be around.  No, Mari had definitely been joking when she’d suggested it.  There was simply no way.

The shopping trip took hours.  There was so much to buy, and so much haggling to be done, that it took the better part of the morning just to purchase the vegetables alone.  The bakery wasn’t much better, and after a point Yuuri got so tired of constantly fighting over prices that Minami offered to take over, but he wasn’t nearly as experienced at the ordeal as Yuuri was.  He did his best, but Yuuri cringed to think of how much Minami must be overpaying whenever he did errands on his own.

“Minami,” Yuuri said as they headed to the next shop.  “What did Mari teach you about haggling?”

“Um….”  Minami gazed upward, thinking.  “She said always have a maximum amount you’re willing to pay in mind, and never let the merchant see that you _really_ want something.”

“Well, that’s good for a start.  Here, when we get inside, watch me do it.”

Minami nodded.  He watched with intense, unblinking focus as Yuuri began negotiating the price of flour at the next store.  Yuuri tried to ignore him and just do what he always did, and hoped he was making his technique obvious enough.  It usually took him a little while to get down to the price he needed, but he had to do it.  His parents couldn’t afford overpaying for a single thing, not while money was this tight and piracy made things more and more tenuous every day.

“That was incredible, Yuuri!” Minami blurted out as they left the shop.  “You got her to cut the price in _half_!  I can’t believe how easy you made it look, too!”

Yuuri giggled at the praise.  “Well, it helps that she knows me.  Haggling is about more than just the numbers.  It’s an entire game.”

“I’m gonna be as good as you, then.  Just you watch.”

“Let’s hope so.  Come on, let’s drop this stuff off at the kitchen.”

The whole way back, Minami assaulted Yuuri with a million questions, his determination to copy Yuuri’s technique clear as day.  It would be nice if he could in fact learn a thing or two, if Minami’s negotiations usually had the abysmal outcome Yuuri had just witnessed.  Minami was, however, highly unfocused, his questions bouncing around from topic to topic, and Yuuri felt dizzy just talking to him.

“I think,” Yuuri said eventually, “that next time I go run errands, you should come with me so you can learn better.”

Minami’s eyes lit up and his face flushed bright red.  “Can I really?”

“Yes.  We’ll do it once a week, how about that?”

“I’ll do my best, Yuuri!  I’ll make you and your family proud!”

Yuuri smiled.  “You already make us all very proud, Minami.”

Minami looked as though he would burst into tears, but his smile was wide and sincere.

 

When they got back to the restaurant, the kitchen was a flurry of activity.  Mari whisked Minami away almost as soon as he came inside, leaving Yuuri to put the groceries in their designated areas.  He half-expected to be asked to stay and help, but Mari assured him that with Minami there, she could things back under control in the dining room.  Yuuri felt the same mixture of relief and guilt he always did, and excused himself by saying there was an errand of his own he had to run.

Yuuri was greeted with the sound of Vicchan’s bark as he left through the back door.  The puppy ran up to him, tongue lolling out his mouth and tail wagging ferociously.  Yuuri leaned down and Vicchan leaped into his arms.

“Want to go into town with me, Vicchan?” Yuuri asked as the dog licked his face.  “I have a new friend for you to meet.”

Vicchan barked and wiggled his way out of Yuuri’s arms, then began to run towards the street.

 

The clothier’s shop was on the opposite end of the street from Minako’s store.  It was run by a small old woman who still spun her own cloth despite arthritis ravaging her joints, and her husband, who purchased the more expensive fabrics directly from the merchants and sold them at a fair price.  Minako had been doing business with them for years, and Yuuri had known them since he was a child.

Yuuri felt butterflies welling up inside his stomach as he approached the shop.  He hoped Victor hadn’t been waiting long.  He hoped that Victor was there waiting at all.

_No, he’ll be there.  It was his idea.  He wouldn’t make me wait._

His heart lifted as he saw Makkachin sitting faithfully outside the shop door.  Vicchan barked and ran straight for her; Makkachin stood up, her tail wagging, and barked back at the smaller puppy.  For a while, they kept their distance from each other, barking at intervals, until they eventually settled and made their greetings in the usual dog way.

Through the window, Yuuri saw that Victor was already inside, chatting up the old woman.  She was giggling and blushing madly at whatever Victor was saying to her.  Taking a deep breath, Yuuri walked in, leaving Makkachin and Vicchan to get better acquainted.

“Oh, Yuuri!” said the woman as he came in.  “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Grandma.”  She was, of course, not really Yuuri’s grandmother; everybody in town called her that, to the point where she often joked she couldn’t remember her own given name.

“Yuuri!” Victor greeted, waving excitedly.  There was no hat nor coat today; Victor wore only his black cotton shirt and leather pants. Somewhat to Yuuri’s dismay, the braid was also gone, and Victor’s hair was tied up in a long ponytail.  Stranger still, there was no sign of his jewelry anywhere.  Everything, even down to the smallest golden earrings, was gone.  Victor was actually, for the first time, modestly dressed.

Victor turned to the old woman and said, “This is my friend Yuuri, I want to introduce you.”

She giggled.  “Victor,” she said, speaking his name familiarly like they were old friends, “I’ve known little Yuuri since he was a child.  But I guess it can never hurt to meet someone again.”

Victor went to the door and took Yuuri by the hand, pulling him over to the front counter.  “Yuuri,” he said, “this is Yuki Yamada, she owns and runs this beautiful clothier shop.”

Yuuri grinned, playing along and saying, “Very nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“And this,” Victor continued, taking Yuuri by the shoulders and pushing him slightly forward, “is my new friend Yuuri, the most talented and dedicated dressmaker in town.”

Yuuri felt as though he could melt.  Not only had Victor actually touched his hand—and what strong, calloused, gentle hands they were—but Victor had called him talented.  Moreover, Victor had called him a friend.

“He’s a very handsome young man,” said Yuki, delight shining in her eyes.

Yuuri glanced at Victor, unable to hide the smile on his face.  It warmed him from deep, deep inside to hear that Victor considered him a friend.  Yuuri realized that he, too, had considered Victor the same, but he couldn’t entirely say when that had begun.  It already felt as though Victor had been around forever, even though it had only been a few days.

Yuuri patiently followed Victor all around the shop as he inspected every last bolt of cloth for sale.  He’d had to remind Victor several times to focus, as he kept getting distracted by fabrics he had never seen, or thought would look good turned into something else, or marveling at a certain shade of color.  In truth, Yuuri didn’t mind.  He’d never seen anybody else get as excited by cloth as Yuuri himself often did; it was an emotion he’d always kept to himself.  But when Victor pointed out the red silk, or the patterned yellow cotton, or the texture of the newly woven wool, Yuuri responded to his enthusiasm in kind.

It took nearly an hour, but finally Victor had his choices narrowed down to three.  There was a dark blue cotton, a heavy yellow jacquard, and a hideous pink velvet that was all too similar to his coat material.

“To me, there’s really no choice,” Yuuri said, looking at the fabrics on the cutting table.  “The dark blue, for sure.”

“But this one looks like gold, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, gesturing at the jacquard.  “You can even see how the thread shines in the light.”

“It’s too heavy,” he explained for the fifth time.  “You’ll get too hot wearing it in the heat.  And this one—” he pointed to the velvet “—is an absolute definite no.”

Victor considered it for a moment, then picked up the velvet.  “Fine, fine.  I guess I already have something like this.”  He walked it back over to its shelf and put it away.

“Take this too.”  Yuuri handed him the yellow bolt.

“Yuuri,” Victor whined.

“Trust me,” Yuuri said.

“I thought you were a visionary.”  Victor pouted as he took the jacquard back to its spot on the shelf.

“Just practical.  Believe me, this dark blue will look good on you.”

“Well, if _you_ think so then I suppose I’ll go along with it.”

Yuuri stifled a laugh and began unraveling the cotton from the bolt.  Victor watched him with entranced eyes as he measured out the fabric and cut it with practiced precision.  Yuuri folded it up and paid for the yardage at the front counter.  As they left, Victor waved to Yuki and assured her that he’d be back again soon.

It bewildered Yuuri how easily Victor talked to complete strangers, especially being foreign as he was.  He figured it was a sign of how well-traveled Victor must be, the way he fell in with people so naturally, never afraid to ask questions or throw himself into an unfamiliar situation.  It was one of many things that fascinated him.

“You know,” Victor said, looking at the folded fabric once they were outside, “now that I see this in the sunlight, I think it’s a great color.  I should have listened to you from the start.”

Yuuri giggled.  “Yes, you should have,” he teased.

“I will never transgress again.”  Makkachin and Vicchan both barked and ran up to their respective owners.  Victor knelt down and took Makkachin’s face in between his hands, cooing at her unintelligibly.  She licked his face and nuzzled into him.

“Oh, right,” Yuuri said.  “Victor, you wanted to meet my dog, didn’t you?”

Victor looked up, his eyes wide.  “Yes, I did!  Oh, is this him?”

“It is.”  Vicchan had already made his way over to Victor and was nosing curiously at his legs.  “Victor, this is Vicchan.”

“Vicchan!” Victor exclaimed, scooping the puppy up in his arms and lifting him into the air.  Vicchan’s tail wagged in a blur, his mouth wide and tongue hanging out as Victor baby-talked and hugged him.  Yuuri couldn’t even begin to understand Victor’s language, but he was starting to recognize some of the words he repeated at the dogs over and over.  As he poked Vicchan’s nose up against his own, Makkachin nuzzled into him more insistently until Victor toppled over and was sitting on the street.  Both dogs swarmed him then, licking and snuffling and wagging their tails as quickly as they could.

Yuuri burst out laughing to see Victor on the ground, not caring one whit for the fluffy brown fur that was beginning to stick to his nice cotton shirt, nor the way Vicchan licked and nibbled curiously at his hair, nor how Makkachin tried to climb on top of him, insisting that they play.  At the sound of his voice, Vicchan turned his attention back to Yuuri and leapt over to him, barking, as if he was trying to tell his human all about his brand new friends.

“I know, I know,” Yuuri laughed, reaching down to rub Vicchan’s head.  Makkachin walked over and he scratched her ears as well.

“I’m not sure how he feels about me, Yuuri,” Victor said with a grin.

“The Vicchan Test is very hard to pass, I’ve been told.”  Yuuri extended a hand to help Victor up.  Victor grabbed it and leapt to his feet with exceptional grace, and as he stood upright, his chest lightly bumped against Yuuri’s.

For a breathless instant, Yuuri felt the intensity of Victor’s presence.  He wasn’t that much taller than Yuuri, and yet at this close distance, Yuuri felt consumed, like there was no other sensation besides Victor’s scent, Victor’s heat, Victor’s breath.  Yuuri swallowed dryly and took a step back, averting his eyes and hoping Victor hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

“Let’s go drop this off at the shop,” Yuuri said, hugging the fabric close to him.  “We can get started on it tomorrow.”

“I’m excited!” said Victor, bounding off down the street as Yuuri followed.  “How long do you think it’ll take?  I’m not rushing you, of course, it’s just all I can think about.”

“It depends on how much other work comes in, but usually custom commissions take priority.  I don’t imagine it’ll take me much longer than about three days.”

“That’s so quick!  Yuuri, you’re amazing.”

Yuuri smiled shyly.  “Not especially…Minako could probably do it in one.”

“And one day you’ll be able to as well.  I’m certain of it.”  Victor shot him a sincere smile, and Yuuri’s heart lifted impossibly high.  For some reason, just to hear Victor say that made him want to push himself that much harder.

As they made their way down to the dress shop, Makkachin and Vicchan stayed beside them, occasionally leaping out to chase each other and playfully nip and bark.  Yuuri wondered if maybe one day Victor would want to come by his parents’ restaurant so the dogs could play together again, but the question stayed stuck in his throat every time he tried to ask.  Would Victor even _want_ to come to the restaurant?  Had he been there already?  Had he liked it?  The possibility of Victor not liking his mother’s food was unbearable to even consider.

_Maybe once the vest is finished, I’ll ask him about it.  But not before._

“Yuuri,” Victor said, gently cutting through his thoughts.  “Once we’ve dropped off the material, would you like to get something to eat?”

Yuuri’s heart seized up with anticipation and euphoria.  It was all he could do to keep his voice steady as he said, “O-of course…I mean, sure!  If you’d like…I don’t mind.”  _A simple yes would have done it._

Victor’s smile was impossibly wide as he replied, “Great!  There’s a little stall down by the port that sells grilled eel, and I’ve been dying to try it.”

“I know the one you mean.  Well, I might know, because there’s actually two eel vendors down there.  One is a lot better than the other.”

“Really?”

They approached the dress shop as Yuuri explained the differences between the two.  He was somewhat surprised to see the curtains drawn, a telltale sign that Minako was there.  She sometimes came to the shop when it was closed to balance her ledger books, but she had just done that last week.

Yuuri opened the front door and warily stepped inside.  Minako sat at the front counter with a small glass in her hand and an intensely furrowed brow.  Her head jerked up at the sound of the door, clearly startled out of a deep thought.

“Minako…” Yuuri said softly.  “Is everything okay?”

“Oh…” she replied, her eyes flitting between the two of them.  “Yes, everything’s quite all right.”  There was a heavy, silent pause.  “Yuuri, I need to talk to you about something.”

All of the happiness and joy and ease flooded out of Yuuri in an instant, replaced with freezing, stabbing fear.  A million awful scenarios swirled into his mind:  the shop was closing, Minako had been robbed, something had happened to his parents, Yuuri was in trouble somehow…he could practically feel his face going pale.

“A-all right,” he stammered quietly.  He turned to Victor, his mind a complete blank, and tried to think of something to say.

“I’ll wait outside, Yuuri,” Victor told him, flashing him a gentle smile.  He nodded cordially to Minako and left the shop, and Yuuri could hear him talking to the dogs through the door.

Yuuri approached the counter, his limbs stiff and his heart racing, feeling certain that somehow, what Minako had to say was the worst news ever.  He set the tiny cut of material on the counter and wished that he could shrink up into himself.

Minako sighed.  “Yuuri…I need to talk to you about that guy.”

“What—who?  You mean Victor?”  Yuuri’s head was spinning.  This was…not the topic he had been expecting in the least.

She nodded.  “Yes.  Victor.  Yuuri, do you know who that man is?”

“I….”  Yuuri glanced towards the door.  “Minako, I don’t…what do you mean?  He’s a client.”  _He’s my friend…._

Minako raised an eyebrow with exasperation.  “Yuuri,” she said flatly.  “That guy is a pirate.”

The word didn’t quite register at first.  Yuuri stood there dumbly, turning it over in his head, but he couldn’t make the words make any sense.  “What do you mean, a pirate?”

“When he first left his coat here, with all that flashy jewelry on it, that didn’t look right to me,” Minako explained, taking a sip of her drink.  “There were no merchant ships at the port that day with anybody that had even _near_ that type of wealth onboard.  But I figured, maybe a ship had come in that I didn’t know about.  And then I saw him here again with you yesterday.”

“Wait,” Yuuri said abruptly, holding up his hands.  “Minako, there’s no way…there’s no way, you’re reading into it way too much.”

“Yuuri,” Minako replied, leaning forward on the counter, her expression all sternness.  “He’s foreign.  He’s clearly not from around here.  And if he’s so rich why does he keep hanging around here?”

Yuuri swallowed, and his throat was tight and pained.  “What are you trying to say?” he asked softly.

“I don’t want you to get involved in anything dangerous, Yuuri,” she said, her tone softening.

“He’s not dangerous,” Yuuri insisted, trying with all his heart to stay calm.  “He just wants me to make a vest for him.”

“Yuuri, I’m not just making this all up.  I’ve been asking people around town for days.  I can’t find a single sailor that recognizes him as being part of their crew.  There’s rumors about pirates from up north sneaking into coastal towns.  A few people know _exactly_ who he is.”

Yuuri stared down at the ground, his face flaring into uncomfortable heat, and he didn’t say a word.

“I talk to a lot of sailors and a lot of people, Yuuri,” Minako continued, her voice growing ever gentler.  “I don’t expect you to know the sort of things that get talked about in those circles.  And I know that you didn’t grow up with pirates being anything you ever had to worry about, so I know you don’t know what the signs are.”

He only nodded.  The emotions welling up were too numerous and painful to sort out all at once, so he let them churn like a vicious storm inside him.

“Victor Nikiforov,” said Minako.  “They call him the King of Gold, and his fleet has been terrorizing the northern coast for almost ten years.”

“If all that is true,” Yuuri heard himself say, staring intently down at the floor, “then explain to me why he’s here.  Tell me why a man like that would be wasting his time in Hasetsu.”  _Why is he wasting his time with someone like me?_

“Now that is something I don’t know.  I’m as stunned as you can imagine to see him just walking around our town like he has a right to be here.”

Yuuri pursed his lips tightly, and found that he was clenching his hands into tight fists.

“So I need to ask you something, Yuuri.”  Minako stood up, reached over the counter, and gently placed her fingers under Yuuri’s chin, coaxing his head up.  “Has he said or done anything to you?”

 _What do you mean by that?  Just ask me what you really want to say.  Victor hasn’t done_ anything _._ I _haven’t done anything.  He’s done nothing wrong, he’s been honest, he’s been kind…how could I have been so stupid?_

Yuuri stepped back, out of Minako’s reach, and shook his head.

“Yuuri, I’m not accusing you of anything,” she assured him.  “I just don’t want anybody _else_ to accuse you of anything, so I need you to tell me the truth.”

“I have,” he bit back, more forcefully than he meant to.  “I’ve told you everything.  There’s nothing else to tell.”

“Don’t get mad at me,” Minako told him, firmly but without any harshness.  “I’m trying to help you.”

_Victor’s not a pirate.  He couldn’t be.  He doesn’t steal.  He’s never cheated me.  He’s never…he…._

Minako spoke again.  “So I don’t want you doing this commission for him.  And I don’t want you to spend any more time with him.”

It was like all the air had gone out of the room.  Even though he should have expected it, Yuuri was suddenly drowning, and his chest crumbled.  He wanted to yell, cry, argue, anything at all, but nothing happened.  He only stared at Minako, trying to dig all feeling out of his heart and bury it deep, deep down.

“Okay, Yuuri?” Minako asked.

He swallowed, everything in his throat on fire, and reached for the fabric on the counter.  It felt dull and dead in his hands.  He nodded, unable to look at Minako, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Minako.”

“Yuuri, you haven’t done anything wrong.  I promise.  You’ve done nothing wrong.”

He nodded again, and turned for the door.  “I’ll tell him I can’t do the commission,” he said, and he barely finished the sentence before his vision blurred with tears.  He was vaguely aware of Minako saying something else to him, but he was out the door before he could hear.

Victor was around the front of the dress shop, chasing the dogs back and forth across the road.  Upon seeing Yuuri leave the shop, he waved, grinning wide as if nothing in the whole world was wrong.

Yuuri’s heart seized up, stuttered, and began to race uncontrollably.  Minako was wrong; she had to be wrong.

But he had to know.  He had to hear Victor say it.

“Is everything all right?” Victor asked.  His expression grew concerned as Yuuri approached him.

Yuuri forced a smile for him.  “Victor…can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Yuuri stared down at the fabric clutched in his hands, his hands gripping it tightly like he wanted to choke the life out of it.  He couldn’t look Victor in the eye as he quietly said, “Minako just told me something about you and I want to know if it’s true.”

“All right.”  There was nothing but patience in Victor’s tone.  Somehow, it made all of this harder.

“Are you…Victor, are you a pirate?”

There was a pause, and Yuuri wished that time would stop in just this moment.  That he’d never have to hear the answer or face it no matter how Victor responded.

“What makes her say that?” Victor asked softly.  He didn’t sound surprised, or offended, or anything else that Yuuri might have hoped for.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said, shaking his head.  “She just…she says she heard things.  About you.”  He swallowed hard.  “Victor, is it true?”

Victor sighed heavily, long and soft through his nostrils.  For a long time he didn’t say anything at all, and Yuuri couldn’t bear to look up at him.  He stared down at the fabric, and thought about a cut of deep blue silk.

“Do you want me to leave?”  Victor’s voice sounded small and nothing like him.  It was the last thing Yuuri expected to hear him say, and the last question in the world he had an answer for.

_He’s not denying it.  Minako was right.  I’m so stupid._

Yuuri wordlessly pushed the fabric into Victor’s hands.  He walked over to Vicchan and picked him up, ignoring the soft whines as he was carried away.

“Yuuri, wait a second.”  Victor reached out and laid his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder as he walked past.  “Hold on, please, let me talk to you.”

“If you really are a pirate,” Yuuri replied, clutching Vicchan tightly to his chest, “then I can’t talk to you.”

There was a pause.  “If you won’t talk to a pirate, will you at least talk to a friend?”

A humorless laugh escaped Yuuri’s lips.  He finally looked up at Victor; his face was twisted with guilt and something like fear.

“So you are who Minako says you are,” Yuuri said, a heaviness falling over his entire body.  “This…this King of Gold, or whatever ridiculous name it is.”  He paused.  “Even though it does kind of suit you.”

Victor laughed, a soft blush crossing his features, and Yuuri’s heart clenched.  “Maybe not the most original name, but…it’s hard to shake off nicknames once they’ve stuck.”

Yuuri found himself smiling, and his heartbeat picked back up.  Victor looked guilty as a child standing before him, holding the dark blue cotton with fidgeting hands.  Yuuri wanted to speak, but no words would come.  He wished that Minako had never said anything.  He wished that she had been wrong.  He wished that just once, he could have made a real, true, uncomplicated friend.

“If…” Victor said haltingly, “if you would let me, I’d like to explain myself to you.  I promise you that I didn’t mean to deceive you.”

“Well, you still did,” Yuuri replied, his obliterated pride at war with his aching heart.

“I know…I know.”  Victor inhaled, exhaled softly.  “If you want me to leave this town, then I will.  I won’t come back; you’ll never see me again.”

It felt like a shock to his ribs just to hear Victor say that.  _No…no, I don’t want that.  I want you to stay here._

Yuuri looked at him, Victor’s expression wary and patient.  “Don’t go.”

It was barely a whisper, barely even a breath, yet the strength needed to even speak the words came from the deepest reaches of his heart.

Victor blinked, eyes wide.

“…I’ll listen to what you have to say,” Yuuri said, gently setting Vicchan back down.  “But…Minako can’t see me talking to you.”  He took in a deep breath.

“If you like, I can meet you somewhere else later.”  Victor’s voice was impossibly gentle, and Yuuri adored it.  He nodded.

“Okay.”

“Later tonight, then.  I can meet you back right here.”

“All right.”

Victor smiled, and Yuuri could see tension leaving his shoulders.  He took a step backwards, patting his thigh for Makkachin to follow him.  He nodded at Yuuri, turned, and disappeared down the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a little later than usual; turned out to be a difficult one to nail down.

_“I'm trying not to let it show, that I don't wanna let this go_  
_Is there somewhere you can meet me?_  
 _'Cause I clutched your arms like stairway railings_  
 _And you clutched my brain and eased my ailin_ g”

_\-- "Is There Somewhere?”_

 

Yuuri spent the rest of the day cleaning everything in the restaurant.  He swept the hallways, the lobby, the kitchen, the dining room.  He polished the mirrors and wiped the dust from every flat surface he could reach.  He emptied every trash can into the giant bin in the backyard, and then secluded himself by the wash basin and scrubbed every dirty dish until it looked new.

He let nothing, not even a single stray thought, enter his mind.  All he focused on was whatever tool was in his hand, clearing away the dirt.  There wasn’t one dish or utensil left in the basin by the time his mother approached him, gently letting him know that it was time for dinner.

She looked at him with the keen concern of a mother, and not even Yuuri’s most practiced smile allayed her suspicions.

At dinner, Yuuri dismissed all attempts at conversation.  He ate his food lifelessly, feeling nothing but a dull, sickening pressure as it entered his stomach.  He felt no hunger as he ate, and no sense of satisfaction when he was done.

Yuuri’s mother forbade him from going back in to clean the kitchen, saying that he had been working for hours straight, and there was no need to keep going.  He almost fought her on it, but the sun had already long since disappeared from the sky.  He couldn’t put it off any longer.

“I’m going out for a walk,” he said as his mother cleared his dinner dishes away.  “I’ll be back later.”

She gave him that look again, but she forced a smile through for him.  She knelt down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, saying, “All right, my love.  Be careful.”

Yuuri nodded, and Vicchan followed excitedly as he headed for the door.

Hasetsu wasn’t an unsafe place, not even in the dead of night.  There were always lights shining from at least a few houses, and the distant sound of bells in the water was a faraway, constant companion.  Yuuri often took Vicchan out on walks this late, if just for the muted sounds and the liminal space of twilight.  It was easier to think.  Or not think.

Minako’s dress shop was a darkened, familiar silhouette at the end of the street.  Yuuri picked up Vicchan with one arm and deftly climbed over the fence to the backyard.  Once he set Vicchan on the ground, the puppy ran the entire perimeter of the yard, sniffing and inspecting everything he could find.  Yuuri sat down in the grass, back against the outer wall of the shop, and watched Vicchan silently.

Some time passed.  Yuuri wasn’t sure how much exactly; Vicchan was still finding things in the corners of the yard, which hadn’t lost its allure as a new place.  Yuuri grabbed a handful of grass from the ground beside him and began to nervously tear them into pieces.  The shreds fell into his lap, disappearing into the shadows.

Eventually, Vicchan’s ears went up, and he looked with focused attention towards the street.  He barked, ran in a circle, and then bounded up to the fence, where he was greeted by another, deeper bark.  Yuuri watched as Makkachin appeared on the other side, the two dogs pushing their noses through the slats as they tried to reach each other.

Victor stood on the street, looking sheepishly over at where Yuuri sat in the dark.  Yuuri had been sitting outside long enough for his eyes to adjust, and he could make out Victor’s stressed and furrowed brow.  He waited for Victor to say something, but it seemed Victor was waiting on the same thing.

“You can let her in here if you want,” Yuuri said after a too-lengthy pause.  “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”  Victor’s voice was small, and Yuuri couldn’t stand it.

“Yeah.”  He nodded.  “Vicchan wants her.”

Victor leaned down and picked Makkachin up as though she weighed nothing.  Yuuri bit back a laugh to see how tolerantly she allowed herself to be held and how Victor maneuvered her like she was no bigger than Vicchan.  When Makkachin landed in the yard, she yipped happily at Vicchan, who was already kneeling down on his front legs, signaling that he wanted to play.  She lunged at him, and he jumped back, and then they were off, chasing each other and wrestling in the grass.

Yuuri watched them play as Victor came into the yard and settled onto the ground next to him.  For a long time, neither of them spoke.

“Thank you for being here,” Victor said softly.  “I thought that maybe…maybe you wouldn’t be.”

“Hmm,” Yuuri mumbled.  “Thanks for coming, too.”

He could feel Victor watching him.  Victor’s nervousness was palpable, seeping into the air and into Yuuri’s own bones.  Yuuri drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and exhaled quietly.

“So you are a pirate after all,” he said.

A pause.  “I am.”

“The King of Gold, huh?”

Victor chuckled.  “That is what they call me.  It’s not that bad of a name once you get used to it.”

“I want to apologize,” Yuuri found himself saying, the words tumbling out before he could stop himself.  He gripped his legs tighter to his body.  Even though he was angry, he pushed it away, determined to find some other feeling, one that he knew how to deal with.

“Apologize?  For what?”  Victor shifted his position in the grass.

“For the way I acted today.  I didn’t mean to get so….”  Yuuri sighed and turned his face away.  “I just didn’t know what to think.  I’m sorry for the things I said.”

Victor laughed softly.  “Yuuri, this is all backwards.  I’m supposed to be apologizing to you.  For…for lying to you.  You haven’t done anything wrong at all.”

Yuuri swallowed, a painful clench in his throat.  He wanted to look Victor in the eye, to give him that simple courtesy, but he couldn’t do it.  Instead, he stared at the empty dye vats against the dress shop wall and listened to the scuffles of the dogs as they played in the yard.

“Yuuri…” came Victor’s voice, the melodious sound of Yuuri’s name on his tongue like a knife to Yuuri’s heart.  When had he fallen in love with that voice?

_Love, huh…I’m so stupid._

“I’m sorry that I made you feel foolish,” Victor continued.  “It wasn’t my intention to…to do this.”

“Were you ever going to say something?”

He heard Victor exhale loudly, and the sound of him shifting again.  “…No,” he admitted.  “No, I wasn’t.”

Yuuri pressed his lips together, twisting as they struggled against the well of pain just beyond them.  “Why not?” was all he could manage to say.

“I’m not usually in the business of divulging all my secrets to people,” Victor replied matter-of-factly.

Yuuri tightened his grip on his legs again, every word digging into his heart until he wanted nothing more than to sink into the cold ground.  “I see,” he mumbled.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…._

“But it was stupid of me to think that I could keep it hidden forever,” Victor sighed.

Yuuri took in several shaking breaths, willing with all his might that he would not start crying in front of Victor.  Not now, not when this was so important.

“So what are you doing here, then?” Yuuri asked, his voice wrecked and laced with the threat of tears.  “I mean…if you’re a pirate, you can go anywhere you want, can’t you?  Why are you here in Hasetsu all by yourself?”

Victor was silent for an unbearably long moment.  Yuuri could hear his every breath, every exhale and lengthy inhale.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I’m just here because I’m bored?”

“What?” Yuuri asked incredulously.  He finally lifted his head and shot Victor a look as all the confined anger inside him began to seep free.  “Bored?  What is that supposed to mean?  You got bored of taking other people’s stuff?  Bored of ruining everything?!”

Victor looked at him, clearly taken aback by the outburst.  Yuuri only felt a little bad for yelling, but he couldn’t hold it back any longer.  It was probably Victor’s fault that Minako’s fabrics had been stolen.  Probably his fault that Yuuri had been driven to such painful measures.  He hadn’t wanted to face it, consider the possibility, but….

When Victor said nothing, Yuuri went on:  “Did you even think about the people you were hurting all this time?  Did it matter to you at all?”  He was yelling without restraint now, gripping fistfuls of grass and dirt in one hand, pulling up buried rage and humiliation and regret.

Victor swallowed and averted his eyes.  “…No,” he admitted.  “At least, not for a long time.  I didn’t.”

Yuuri laughed, a sarcastic exhale.  _I really am an idiot.  What else should I have expected?_

“But,” Victor continued, “that’s…that’s what I mean when I say I got bored.  It just doesn’t mean anything to me like it used to.  Yuuri, there’s almost nothing I don’t have.  Nothing that I can’t get if I want it, and if I can’t get it then I know somebody who can.  But none of it means anything, not really.”

Victor was leaning towards him, though he kept a careful distance.  Yuuri watched Victor’s eyes, desperately trying to detect any hint of remorse or deception.  Yuuri couldn’t tell…for all he could see, Victor was being honest.  He had no idea if he was being lied to, if he was being laughed at, used, manipulated.  It only made him angrier.  His useless naiveté was no match for any of this.

“…Victor,” Yuuri said, steeling himself for what he was about to say.  “I just…I need to know something, and I want the truth, okay?  If you lie to me about this, then…if you lie about this I’ll never speak to you again, do you understand me?”  He barely kept the tears from spilling over as he spit the words out.

Victor glanced up and nodded solemnly.  His eyes were wide and attentive as Yuuri took a breath.

“Did you steal a fabric shipment that was supposed to be coming here a few weeks ago?”

Victor blinked, looked up as he tried to think.  “I don’t really recall.”

“If you did,” Yuuri continued, swallowing down his rage even as his voice grew louder yet again, “if you took that shipment, then I’ll never forgive you.  I mean it, Victor.  So you’d better remember.”

Victor exhaled softly.  “I can tell you this, Yuuri,” he said after a moment of silence.  “And I’ll be as honest with you as I can.  My fleet tends to stay up north, on the trade routes from the coast to the mainland, or on the east.”  He paused again, watching Yuuri’s face for a reaction.  “We…generally don’t come this far south.  There’s just not enough down here worth our time, if you’ll excuse me saying so.”

Yuuri gazed down at the shreds of grass blades in his hand.  He didn’t know what to say next.  He could never have been prepared for any answer Victor might have given.

“So tell me who took it then,” he demanded, hating himself as he asked, knowing the question was unfair.

“Yuuri,” Victor replied, sounding defeated.  “I don’t know.  I really don’t.”

Yuuri didn’t say anything to that.  He refused to look at Victor, even though he could feel his gaze.

“Tell me what was taken,” Victor said, moving closer.  “I can get you more.  I’ll get you anything.  I can replace it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yuuri whispered miserably.  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

For the longest, most agonizing time, neither of them said anything.  Vicchan and Makkachin eventually laid down together, Vicchan snuggled up against Makkachin’s larger frame until Yuuri couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.  The wind blew clouds in front of the moon, casting darkness over the yard as the faintest rumble of thunder announced itself out on the sea.

Yuuri hated this, every single moment of this.  He never wanted to have to accuse Victor of anything.  He hated not knowing if he was telling the truth about even a single thing.  He hated that this would never go away, no matter how many questions he asked, no matter how many answers Victor gave him, and no matter how fiercely in his heart he tried to deny it.

It may have been an hour or more before Victor spoke again.  “I’m sorry that I caused you so much pain, Yuuri.  Makkachin and I will leave Hasetsu tonight.  I’ll find out whose ship is pirating off the coast here and I’ll get rid of them for you.”

“Victor,” Yuuri said bitterly, “I know it’s your ship.”

“Yuuri, I told you, it’s not me.”

“What reason do I have to believe you?”  Yuuri gave Victor the nastiest glare he could muster.  “You say you never come south, and yet here you are.”

Victor looked hurt, but he said nothing.

“So you’re expecting me to believe,” Yuuri continued, “that a criminal like you, with all your gold and everything that you could possibly want, is just _here_ with none of your crew and none of your ships, showing up right after pirates stole Minako’s fabric twice?”

Victor shrank back and began to twist at the rings on his fingers.  “…I know,” he mumbled.  “I know what it looks like."

Yuuri pushed himself up to his feet and brushed the grass from his legs.  Across the yard, both dogs looked up, their ears cocked for signs of trouble.

“You must think—” Yuuri said tightly as he dusted the dirt from his palms, “—that I’m a complete idiot.”

“Yuuri, no!”  Victor leapt up and put his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder; Yuuri jerked away with such fierceness he nearly fell over.  “Yuuri, I’m not saying that.  I’m telling you the truth!  I may have kept things from you but I have never lied to you, have I?”

Yuuri continued brushing away nonexistent dirt from his clothes, unable to look at him.  Victor was right.  But he didn’t care.

“Please, Yuuri,” Victor said, and Yuuri’s heart burst into pieces to hear that he was losing control of his steadiness.  “Please, what can I do?”

_Nothing.  You can’t do anything.  Just go back to that day, go back and this time don’t come into the shop…._

Yuuri looked up, and the expression on Victor’s face was full of pleading, of real, true regret, and the remains of Yuuri’s heart blew away into dust.  He dropped his face into his hands, took a heaving breath, and began to cry.

It wasn’t fair.  None of it was fair.  But there was nothing else he could do.

He lost track of how long he stood there.  He heard Vicchan and Makkachin come over, felt their soft fur as they bumped up against him, wanting to know what was wrong, where was the threat, where was he hurt?  He didn’t hear a sound from Victor, nor sensed any movement whatsoever from him.  He almost hoped that when he looked up again, Victor would be gone, and in time he could convince himself that his presence had only been a dream.

_Now he can see.  Now he knows how weak I really am, and now he sees how easy it is to manipulate me._

Yuuri shuddered as he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.  He felt the presence of heat, the scent of perfume, and then the wary, gentle embrace of velvet arms around him.  Victor’s jewelry was cold and solid, pressing uncomfortably up against Yuuri’s body.  Yuuri was just tall enough to be able to peek over Victor’s shoulder, but instead he buried his face down into the soft coat.  His own arms shot out and grabbed Victor, wrapping around him without an instant of hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” Victor said, directly into his ear.  His breath and the rumble of his chest made Yuuri shiver.  “I…don’t really know what to do when somebody is crying.”

Yuuri didn’t respond.  He held onto Victor’s solid body like a drowning man in the middle of the sea.  His tears were beginning to subside, and he sniffled, trying desperately not to damage Victor’s coat with any of his disgusting mucus and tears.

His heart swelled, a small ember catching flame, to be close to him like this.

“I think,” Victor continued, speaking each word carefully, “that it would be best if I left.”

“I don’t want you to.”  Yuuri was barely even surprised to hear himself say it out loud.  Victor’s body tensed and his grip tightened.

“…It’s for the best.”  Victor squeezed him tighter, then released him and stepped back.  Yuuri knew his own face looked awful, messy and tear-stained.  Victor was forcing a smile.  “I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble over me.”

Yuuri swallowed.  “I know.”

“I know this probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I had a lot of fun with you these past few days.”

“…I did too.”  _I know he shouldn’t be here.  It was always going to end up like this.  I can’t keep being selfish._

A distant rumble of thunder sounded overhead.  Yuuri could smell the rain in the air.  Victor looked up at the sky and frowned.

“You should head home.”

Yuuri nodded, twisting the cuffs of his sleeves in his fingers.  He stared down at the ground, locking eyes with Vicchan, and considered the question in his head a thousand times before finally asking.

“…Will you walk with me?”  He almost thought Victor wouldn’t hear him.

Instead, he heard a gentle exhale laced with the hint of a smile, and the reply:  “Of course I will.”

They carried their respective dogs over the fence and out of the yard.  More thunder was coming, louder now, and faint flashes of lightning reflected in the windows of the dress shop.  A light drizzle started up, but the real storm wouldn’t open up until much later.

Victor walked close beside Yuuri, close enough for their hands to touch, but Yuuri kept his hands firmly seated in his pockets.  He wanted to ask a hundred questions, wanted to make this last moment together last as long as possible.  Instead, he watched Vicchan and Makkachin circle around their legs, chasing each other with tails wagging, and knew that he would never be able to explain to Vicchan where his friend had gone.

He glanced at Victor out of the corner of his eye.  Victor’s gaze was downcast, scowling at the road.  Something heavy was clearly on his mind.  Even the inclination to ask him if he was all right was halted by Yuuri’s inability to form an intelligible sentence.  It was as if the link between thought and speech was severed.

It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, shining brightly in the dark with the lights from within.  Yuuri stopped and turned to Victor.  “This is…this is me,” he said softly.

Victor looked at the front of the restaurant and his expression softened.  “Oh, I’ve been here,” he said with a smile.  “This is your parents’ restaurant?”

Yuuri’s spirits lifted.  “Yes,” he replied proudly.  “My mother and father do all the cooking.”

“Well, they are excellent.  It was like eating the food of kings.  I would have had more but I was so stuffed, I said I’d be back again to try the second half of the menu.”

And just like that, Yuuri’s mood plummeted again.

Vicchan ran to the door and sat down, patiently waiting for Yuuri to let them inside.  Makkachin sat down beside Victor, her long tongue hanging out of her mouth as she panted.

Yuuri didn’t know what to say, standing there in front of Victor for the last time.  Victor looked just as much lost for words, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and gazing around at nothing in particular.  Yuuri knew that if they stayed there for much longer, somebody might see, and word might get back to Minako or his parents somehow.  Before he could overthink it, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Victor again.  Victor returned the embrace immediately, strong hands rubbing up and down his back.  Yuuri buried his face into Victor’s soft velvet, trying to remember the smell of him, the feel of his muscles, the tickle of his hair against his neck.

They parted, after far too short of a time, and Victor reached out and brushed a stray tear from Yuuri’s face.  “Don’t cry, Yuuri,” he said, smiling.  “It doesn’t suit you.”

Yuuri laughed.  “You’d be surprised.”

“You’re going to make beautiful things,” Victor told him.  “I expect to see your dresses in the city someday, all right?”

Yuuri nodded.  “Okay.  I promise.”

A loud boom of thunder tore through the sky, and the rain began to pick up.  Victor winked at him, then he and Makkachin walked out into the storm.  Yuuri watched them go until the night swallowed them up.

Later that night, lying in bed and listening to the storm rage beyond his window, Yuuri held a drawing of a pirate in his hands, sailing away to somewhere unknown on the bow of a ship.

 

The rain didn’t stop for days.  The workroom was filled with finished dress commissions that hadn’t been picked up for fear of getting them wet.  Dye job orders had piled up too, and for the most part, Yuuri didn’t have much to do except the occasional hem or repair.  On the other hand, the dress shop had never been cleaner.

Yuuri dealt with the downtime the way he always did: sketching dress ideas in his notebook.  He kept the ideas simple, making sure that nothing would call for any material that was too extravagant.  He’d come up with a few skirts, a couple summer dresses, and some woolen coats that all looked the same.  He avoided anything that looked even remotely like a vest.

Minako came into the workroom, her hair soaked and her expression grim.  “Yuuri,” she called miserably.  “I got lunch.”

“What happened to your umbrella?” Yuuri asked as she set slightly damp containers of soup on the table.

“It blew away,” Minako replied.  “I would have gone after it but my hands were full.”

“I can go try to find it for you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just buy a new one tomorrow.  Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

As they ate, Yuuri showed Minako some of his drawings, most of which she had positive critique for, and others for which she had brutally honest criticism.

“Have you decided not to do formal wear anymore?” she asked, frowning at the pages.  “I thought that’s what you had your heart set on.”

“No, I still want to…I just needed to try something different for a while,” Yuuri admitted, glancing down into his soup.  “Plus, I’ve been having some trouble creatively lately….”

“You have seemed a little down lately.”

“…It’s the weather,” Yuuri lied, glancing out the window.

“Well,” said Minako with a cheeky grin, “I have some good news that might cheer you up.  Remember the wedding dress we made last week?”

_Was it only last week?  Feels like forever…._   “Yeah.”

“The bride had an out-of-town relative who was so impressed by it, he wants one for his own daughter.  Not a wedding dress, she’s a little young for that, but her first really nice gown, you know?”

Yuuri smiled a little.  Young clients were some of his favorite; their joy at receiving something as grand as an evening dress was so gratifyingly pure.  “Yeah,” he said.  “That sounds great.”

“He went back home after the wedding, but he’ll be back later in the month with his daughter to discuss the details.  Could be great for us!”

“Definitely.”

“Let’s just hope this rain clears up soon.  The port is all clogged up with ships that can’t get out because of the storm.”

Yuuri felt a twinge in his heart, but he ground it down.  “…It’s probably keeping the pirates away, too,” he said softly.

“Mmm,” Minako agreed through a mouthful of soup.  After swallowing, she replied, “Let’s hope so.”

Yuuri looked back out the window and tried to make himself numb.

 

Vicchan was restless.  He hadn’t been on a walk in days, and Yuuri wouldn’t let him stay outside long enough to get muddy.  For some reason, Vicchan loved the rain and he loved puddles, and the muddier, the better.  He would also sit at the front door and whine, looking to Yuuri for some explanation why he hadn’t seen his new friend in so long.  Yuuri could only scratch his tiny brown ears and whisper an apology.

Vicchan was there now, laying by the front door with his nose pressed up against the small gap at the bottom, sighing in the way that dogs did.  Yuuri was sweeping the front lobby and hoping that the roof wouldn’t begin to leak like it had last summer.  He’d have to go around the house and make sure that everything was still holding up.

The front door opened and Vicchan began barking incessantly.

“Vicchan!” Yuuri scolded.  He turned around to see what the problem was; Vicchan never barked at customers.

“Hi, Yuuri!  Hi, Vicchan, hello little baby puppy boy!”

“Yuko!” Yuuri exclaimed.

Vicchan had already jumped into the arms of Yuuri’s childhood friend, who was cooing and making kiss noises at the dog as she walked over to Yuuri.

“Yuuri!” she said, setting Vicchan down and wrapping her arms around Yuuri.  “How are you?”

“I’m—I’m good, how are you?” he replied, completely thrown.  “I haven’t seen you in…since last year!”

“Well, you know,” she said, stepping back.  “I _did_ have triplets.”

“Right,” Yuuri laughed.

“Yuuri!” came another, but no less familiar voice.  Vicchan barked again and ran up to the man that had just entered.

“Takeshi!”  Yuuri smiled wide; Yuko’s husband walked up to him and grabbed him up in a huge hug, lifting him off the floor.

“How have you been?” Takeshi asked, setting him back down.

“Good!  What about you?  How’s being a dad?”

“The best thing that’s ever happened to me.  Also the most stressful.”  He grimaced.  “I love my girls, but if even one of them starts crying the other two decide they have to do the same thing.”

“I wish I could offer to babysit, but I’m busy all day.”

“That’s kind of you, Yuuri,” said Yuko with a bright smile.  “My parents are helping out a lot.  In fact, they’re watching the girls now.”

“So what are you guys doing out on a night like this?”

Yuko blushed.  “We’re on a date.  It’s been a little while.  Also, well….”

“Yuko!  Takeshi!”  Yuuri’s mother appeared in the lobby, her arms spread wide as she ran to embrace them both.

Growing up, Yuuri had never been good at socializing.  The other kids in town teased him for being fat, and he spent so much of his time hanging around Minako that he simply never got to know anybody else.  Yuko had come into the shop one day with her mother looking for a dress, and Yuuri was sure he’d never seen such a pretty girl in his life.  She even talked to him, and was funny and interesting and didn’t say a single disparaging word.  She taught Yuuri what she knew of embroidery, and he taught her how to fix a popped seam.

Takeshi hung out around Yuko a lot, and had been one of Yuuri’s more persistent bullies back in the day.  As they’d gotten older, Takeshi grew out of it, though Yuuri had always suspected the reason had been to get into Yuko’s good graces.  Nevertheless, the three of them had been largely inseparable until the day Takeshi proposed.  After that, Yuuri buried himself in his work, and Yuko made a home with Takeshi, and things were never quite the same.

Even though they had said they were on a date, Yuko and Takeshi invited Yuuri to sit with them as they ordered their food.  Yuuri, too, had himself some dinner, mostly at the insistence of his mother.  They spent the meal catching up with one another, although Yuuri himself didn’t have much to say.  Yuko told him all about her three little girls, and how much they had grown since Yuuri saw them last.  It still boggled Yuuri’s mind to think of Yuko having children, even though she fit the role of mother perfectly.  He said he’d come by and visit them soon, and that he would make matching pajamas for them when he did.

“If you have time, Yuuri,” Takeshi said, setting down his second cup of sake, “check in on Yuko and my girls for the next month or so.”

“Huh?”  Yuuri blinked at him.  “What do you mean?”

“Oh, that’s right, I was going to tell you earlier,” said Yuko.  “Takeshi is going back out to sea for a while.  This time he might be out longer than usual.”

“Really?”

Takeshi nodded, an excited fire in his eyes.  “We’re going to hunt down those pirates once and for all.”

“You’re…you’re going after the pirates?”  Yuuri’s grip on his own cup tightened.

“Yep.  We’ve been able to keep them from getting too out of control, but we were able to get a little help from the capital and this time we’re going after them ourselves.”

“So you’re going to…what, kill them all?”  Yuuri hoped his face wasn’t going too pale.

“Let’s hope so!” Takeshi laughed.  “Honestly, we’re not too worried.  That ship they’re using is on its last legs.”

“B-but…isn’t that V—the King of Gold’s ship?” Yuuri asked warily.

“What?”  Takeshi raised an eyebrow.  “Where’d you hear that?”  He laughed.

“I heard that he was out off the coast here.”  Yuuri frowned.  “Isn’t he?”

“Yuuri, if that guy was out there, there’d be nothing left of Hasetsu.”  Takeshi threw back the last of his sake.  “No, this is somebody else.”

Yuuri’s heart stopped beating.  “How sure are you?”

“Completely.  Yuuri, I’ve seen him myself.  This is some jackass that calls himself King JJ.”

If Yuuri hadn’t been sitting down already, he would have dropped to the floor.  He could feel the blood drain from his face and his heart plummet into nothingness.  Clear as day, the memory of his own voice flooded his brain.

_I know it’s your ship._

_What reason do I have to believe you?_

_You must think I’m a complete idiot._

“Yuuri?” came Yuko’s voice through the blur.  “Are you okay?”

“U-uh…yeah, sorry,” he replied, shaking his head.  “Sorry, I just…I’m glad.  I mean, I’m glad you’re going after somebody that’s not dangerous, Takeshi.”

“Every pirate is dangerous, but real sailors are better,” Takeshi laughed with a swell of pride.

Yuuri didn’t hear whatever Takeshi said after that.  For the rest of the meal, he only nodded, forced a smile, muttered an agreement here and there.  All he could think about were the vicious words that he’d thrown in Victor’s face just days ago, accusations that he now knew were baseless, bitterness that Victor had never truly deserved.  He’d been telling the truth.  The ship wasn’t his.

It didn’t make sense, and it still didn’t explain why Victor was in Hasetsu to begin with.  If he’d been honest about never pirating here, was it true that he was only here for exactly the reason he said?  Because he was unhappy?  Yuuri would never know now.  It was too late.

_Victor…what have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys!! More plot and more characters will be showing up soon. I'm excited and hope you are too! Let me know what you think in the comments below, and as always feel free to come visit my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just to let you know straight up, this week's chapter is a little shorter than usual. I've been doing some training for a half-marathon at the end of the summer and after running I don't always feel like writing lol Anyway, for next week I'll do my best to give you guys a regular length chapter. In the meantime, please enjoy! <3

_“King Midas put his hands on me again_  
_He said one day I'd realize why I don't have any friends_  
 _I find myself alone at night unless I'm having sex_  
 _But he can make me golden if I just show some respect”_

_\- “100 Letters”_

_2 weeks ago…_

The fresh winds of spring had brought Victor to Hasetsu.  Up north, the winds were still cold and winter was hanging on with its last breath.  Normally, the chill was nothing, and snow was home.  This year, the freezing temperatures had worked their way past Victor’s skin and deep into his heart.

Winter was always one of the easiest times for his fleet.  Sailing in frozen waters was second nature to them, and ships that had hit icebergs were the easiest pickings of all.  All Victor would have to do is ask a small “boarding” fee for saving the men, who would be dumped off at the nearest port unless they chose to join up.  The crew was happiest when the hauls were good, and extended shore leaves lifted their spirits even more.  Victor always made sure to keep them happy.

But things were apparently going too well.  The crew was getting bored.  They wanted to go someplace new, somewhere with different food, different drink, different…entertainment.  The southern waters weren’t their territory, and although Victor knew his crew would jump at the chance for a turf war, he wasn’t in the mood to thin his crew out any more to put a new ship out on the water just now.  Maybe later in the year, he told himself.  He’d consider it.

In the meantime, he took his ship and his people and sailed to a city on the coast that was known for being pirate-friendly, with gambling and brothels and plenty of drink.  It would satisfy them for a good month or two until they itched to return to the sea.

Victor immersed himself in frivolity like the rest of them.  He taught Yuri, the youngest of his crew—though probably the most vicious—how to play the card and dice games at the gambling houses, talked Georgi out of proposing to what must have been the fifth prostitute he’d fallen in love with that month, and satisfied his own carnal pleasures in the arms of his first mate Christophe.

It had all gotten boring long before the crew had even gotten started on their fun.  The thought of staying in this town for much longer began to drive Victor out of his mind, and no matter how many bottles of however many types of liquor he drank, the restlessness continued to eat at him.

So one night, he left a note for Christophe, paid a fisherman for his silence and his help, and sailed further south down the coast with Makkachin.

 

He would never forget the first time he saw Yuuri.  He could name even the hour of the day, and he remembered how heavy the scent of cherry blossoms had been in the air.  Makkachin had taken off after something down an alleyway, and when he caught up to her, he saw the large window in the side of the dress shop across the street.  There were orange curtains drawn to the side, letting in the sunlight directly onto the large worktable just below the glass.  On the other side of the table stood a dress form, with pieces of red fabric pinned to the bodice.  Beside the dress form, with pins in his mouth and velvet in his hands, was Yuuri.

He was peering with intense focus through blue-rimmed glasses at the silk as he tried to place it on the dress form’s waist.  The pins moved up and down between his lips, like he was chewing on them inside his mouth.  As Victor watched him consider the form from all angles, the red velvet was slowly pinned into place, and suddenly he was looking at a fully-formed dress.  It was like magic.  The fabric was draped with expert precision, which Victor could tell even from his obscured view across the street.

Yuuri stepped back then and smiled at his work, taking the extra pins out of his mouth and laying them on a nearby table.  The smile looked beautiful on his round face, and Victor got the sense that Yuuri had been working on this particular dress for a while.  Yuuri walked away, out of Victor’s view, and he took this opportunity to move closer for a better look.

Trying his best to remain inconspicuous—he probably should have dressed down for this little excursion—Victor jogged across the street.  Makkachin dutifully followed, sniffing the side of the dress shop as they approached.  Victor glanced into what looked like the work room.  Bolts of fabric were neatly stacked in the back corner on shelves, and on the wall was a cabinet filled with spools of thread of every color.  There was cut fabric and measuring tape strewn all over the tables, and all sorts of tools Victor had never seen in his life.  He was so taken by trying to catch a glimpse of every single thing that he barely noticed Yuuri and another woman walk back into the room.  He quickly averted his eyes down towards Makkachin and called for her, hoping that Yuuri hadn’t seen him staring.

It was another hour before Victor worked up the resolve to walk by the shop again.  He kept to the far side of the road, glancing at the window like he was nothing more than a regular passerby.  Yuuri was still working on the dress, too immersed to notice even if Victor had stopped and stared.

The next day, Victor walked by the shop again.  Yuuri was there in the window, this time seated at the worktable and sewing.  He had a cute expression on his face when he was concentrating, Victor realized.

It was a struggle not to stop and stare all day long.  There was a little tea shop across the way, and if Victor picked just the right seat near the window, he could sort of see the dress shop from there.  Victor could swear that after about three days, Makkachin was silently judging him each time he went down that street.  She was definitely starting to notice that there was something good about this part of town.  She got excited every time they walked down the alleyway, feeding off of Victor’s own giddiness.

When he wasn’t “visiting” Yuuri, Victor explored the rest of Hasetsu.  The food was excellent, the people easygoing, and the weather impeccable.  Many days, he would climb the rocky hill to the lighthouse and sit in the grass, sketching in his notebook for hours and hours.  It had been months since he’d been able to devote so much time to his art.  Finding good supplies on merchant ships was harder than he would have liked, and being a captain hardly ever gave him any time for himself.

Now that he thought of it, Victor hadn’t been able to spend this much time with Makkachin lately either.  She was a good, adaptable dog, who lived on the ship just as easily as she might live on land.  She even got along with Yuri’s cat that lived in the galley with him.  Victor could tell that Makkachin was enjoying their vacation just as much as he was.

Victor had no plans for when he was going to leave.  Probably whenever Christophe tracked him down, or whenever his crew decided that they were ready to get going again.  He hoped that it would be a good while before then.

For now, his only concern was one thing:  figuring out how to talk to Yuuri.  And not make it weird.

“Makkachin,” he whined, poking the sleeping dog with his foot.  She rolled over in the grass and blinked at him.  “Tell me what I should do.”

She yawned.

Victor spun his pencil over his fingers.  “Your bandana is looking a little rough these days,” he said.  Makkachin exhaled loudly.  “Maybe I should get you a new one.”

He dropped the pencil, and Makkachin sat up to sniff at it, her tongue poking out for an experimental lick.

Victor gasped.  “Makkachin, that’s an excellent idea!”  He leaned over and rubbed her head.  “Such a smart girl you are.”

He reached into his pocket for his dagger and shrugged off his coat.  Makkachin watched with half-interest as he carefully pushed the blade into the seam of the sleeve and sliced it up to the elbow.  “Whoops,” he laughed.  “Look at that, girl.  We’ll have to get that fixed, won’t we?”

She turned back over and shut her eyes.

 

Yuuri was everything Victor had thought he was and more.  He was sweet, shy, talented, hardworking, creative…there weren’t enough words to describe everything that he was.  And his face was even cuter up close, and the way he always blushed when Victor looked at him, or complimented him, or asked him a question.  Yuuri blushed a lot.  But Victor loved it every time, and he loved when Yuuri smiled, when Yuuri laughed, and when Yuuri was talking about sewing.

He knew what Christophe would say if he were here.  _You’re worse than Georgi_.  And he’d sigh and roll his eyes but do nothing to really stop him.

_But this is different_ , is what Victor would insist.  Yuuri wasn’t like that girl from the tavern, or the fisherman’s son.  He wasn’t like Christophe either, and he wasn’t like Victor.  Yuuri didn’t know who Victor was.  He had no idea that he was making friends with a pirate.  Yuuri didn’t want anything from him, didn’t ask or expect anything of him.  Didn’t tell Victor a million nothings that he thought the man might want to hear, didn’t tease him with skin-deep kisses.  Yuuri was honesty.

But Victor wasn’t, and this, he realized, was where it all went wrong.

 

Yuuri was crying.  He was crying and it was Victor’s fault.  They weren’t the first tears he’d caused.  It wasn’t the first time he’d been at a loss over something like this.  But this time, Victor had thought he’d done everything right.  No matter how many times he went over the past three days in his head, he couldn’t figure out what he should have done differently.

He couldn’t have told Yuuri he was a pirate right from the beginning.  He could never have told him.  Victor just wanted a friend who knew him as Victor, not as the King of Gold.  But with the way Yuuri was looking at him now, and the trembling hurt in his voice, he wondered if maybe he was a worse person in this moment than he’d ever been as a pirate.

So he did the only thing he could think of and he hugged him, holding Yuuri tight to his body, wishing he could soak up the pain into his own heart until it was like Victor had never touched his life at all.

“I think that it would be best if I left,” Victor said, swallowing tightly around the words.

“I don’t want you to.”

Victor hadn’t cried in twenty years.  He could have sobbed to hear Yuuri say that.  He held on to him tighter, knowing that he had to let him go, wanting nothing more than to stay, or take him with him, but there was no place for them to go.

_There’s almost nothing I don’t have, huh…._

“…It’s for the best.”  It was the only thing he knew to be true.

He’d go back to his crew, back to the ship, and tell Christophe that he’d found nothing down here, and that whatever had been on his mind lately was gone now.  He’d tell him that he was fine.

 

There was a small, unattended fishing boat at the far edge of the docks.  It was late, and the rain was already coming down in heavy sheets.  Victor put Makkachin inside and climbed aboard, then grabbed the rope anchoring it to the pier.  His knife was already in his hands, the blade flush against the hempen cord, but he did nothing.

_You got bored of taking other people’s stuff?  Bored of ruining everything!?_

_Did you even think about the people you were hurting all this time?  Did it matter to you at all?_

Victor gripped the handle of his knife until his hands began to shake.

_The piracy, you know._

_I’ve heard it’s worse in other places than it is here, so I shouldn’t complain._

Victor turned the knife in his palm and stabbed it viciously into the wooden railing.  Behind him, Makkachin whined quietly.

“I don’t owe these people anything,” he whispered bitterly as he ground the blade deeper in.  “I don’t, I don’t, I don’t….”

Makkachin nuzzled his legs insistently.  He glanced down at her, looking pathetic with her soaked fur and sad eyes.  He couldn’t explain anything to her.  He could barely explain it all to himself.

_Why did I even come here?  I could burn this whole town to the ground if I wanted.  I could do anything…._

Thunder boomed directly above him and Makkachin yelped.  She nosed her way in between Victor’s legs and curled up with her tail between her legs, shivering.  Victor knelt down and embraced her, sopping wet fur pressed against ruined velvet.

“It’s okay, girl,” he whispered into her floppy ears.  “I’m here…I’m here.”

He stood up and lifted her into his arms, placing her gently back onto the pier.  She turned immediately and barked in distress at him.

“I’m coming, girl, it’s okay,” he soothed as he climbed over the ship railing.

 

“Hey, Yuuri,” Minami called from across the dining room.  He lifted his arm and waved as Yuuri walked in.

“Good morning,” Yuuri replied, forcing up a smile for him.  He hadn’t slept well at all last night.  Every time he drifted off, the storm would awaken him, or a bad dream, or simple anxiety.  It had been that way for days.

Minami dashed across the room, broom still in hand.  “Yuuri, did you hear?” he asked.

“Mmmm…hear what?” Yuuri mumbled.  He headed into the kitchen with Minami close behind him.  He grabbed one of the kitchen aprons and tied it around his body.  Cooking during business hours was too far out of Yuuri’s league, but he knew how to prep his mother’s kitchen well enough.  He reached for a chopping knife and a handful of leeks as Minami started rambling at top speed.

“There’s wanted posters all over town for a pirate!” Minami blurted out.  “A bunch of people say they’ve seen him at the docks and stuff!”

“Minami,” Yuuri sighed, “there’s no pirates in Hasetsu.”

“No, it’s true!” Minami insisted.  “My dad says he saw somebody trying to steal a boat a few days ago!  Well…that is, he knows somebody whose friend saw somebody trying to steal a boat…but other people have seen him too!  Minako says she definitely saw a pirate, and even Miss Mari!  Yuuri, how do you not know?  It’s all anybody is talking about!”

Yuuri filled a bowl with water and placed the chopped leeks inside to filter out the dirt.  “I’m so busy these days, Minami, I almost never hear about anything until it’s over.”

“But it’s _not_ over!  There’s a huge reward for any information leading to his capture.  A _big_ one, Yuuri!  Something like thirty gold pieces!”

Yuuri sighed again and grabbed a handful of carrots.  Maybe if he ignored him, Minami would eventually go away.

“I’d catch that pirate, Yuuri,” Minami said, determination set in his face.  “I’d get my dad’s pistol and go like, ‘BOOM!’ and ‘BWA!’”  He made a gun shape with his fingers and pointed it around the kitchen.

“I bet you would,” Yuuri mumbled.  “Minami, don’t go looking for trouble, okay?”

“Somebody’s gotta protect the town while the sailors are out there!  I can join the navy next year, but until then somebody has to hold down the home front.”  Minami patted himself on the chest.  “I’ll protect you, Yuuri, and Miss Mari and Mama and Papa Katsuki too.”

“I appreciate the offer, Minami, but trust me, there are no pirates in Hasetsu.”

Minami made a face, halfway between a pout and a scowl.  He went back out to the dining room to finish sweeping without another word.

_Victor left days ago.  Looking for him now would be a waste of time.  I don’t know where I would even start if he_ were _still here…._

 

More than half of the mussels were dead.  Yuuri’s mother had boiled their entire shipment only to not be able to use hardly any of it.  The shellfish weren’t cheap either, and Yuuri could see despair filling up his mother’s eyes as she picked through the pile of them.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Yuuri said, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “I’ll go back to the fishmonger and tell him we need our money back.”

“Oh, Yuuri, you don’t have to do that,” she replied, smiling through her grief.  “It’s all right.  I knew they might not be right.”

“It’s not all right,” he told her firmly.  “Look, here…I’ll take all the bad ones and bring them back, and tell him we need more.”

“But it’s so miserable outside….”

“Mom.”  He put on his sternest tone.  “I’m going to do this for you.”

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing a cloth-lined basket and starting to sort through the pile of steaming shellfish.  His mother was called away for another task quickly, leaving him to finish the job in silence.  Once he’d found every closed shell in the pot, he covered the basket with another cloth and took the umbrella by the back door.  Vicchan barked from somewhere within the restaurant; somehow, he could always tell when Yuuri was leaving.

The rain had let up to a steady downpour with little wind.  Even the lightning and thunder were beginning to subside, though the town was still riddled with puddles and muddy yards.  It was chilly, and Yuuri shivered as his sleeves clung to his arms.  It felt a bit too much like winter for his tastes.

The fish market wasn’t as crowded today.  Some of the more foolhardy fishermen still went out to fish in this weather, and those that were successful pulled in a better than average catch.  The less fortunate ones were now dealing with torn sails and splintered masts.  The one Yuuri was looking for, however, sat in his usual spot in the restaurant row.  His stock looked scarce today, and Yuuri doubted he’d be able to get replacement mussels, but he was committed to trying.

“Afternoon,” the fisherman greeted him from his spot beneath his awning.  “What can I do for you?”

Yuuri pulled back the cloth on the basket and set it down on the ground where the man could see.  “Our last shipment of mussels had all these dead ones in it.”

The man peered into the basket with emotionless eyes.  “So?”

Yuuri caught his breath.  He’d been hoping this would be painless and quick.

“So,” he answered, hoping his anxious voice remained steady, “we can’t use them.  I need my money back.”

“How do I know they’re even dead?  Did you even cook these?”

“Of course I did.  Can’t you feel they’re still warm?”

“Doesn’t mean you cooked them.”

Yuuri was at a loss for words.  The fisherman could not have looked any more disinterested in his plight.  One of them was going to be losing money at this end of this conversation, and clearly he did not intend for it to be him.

“Listen,” Yuuri said, trying to remain calm, “there’s no point in trying to cheat me.  I don’t even want all my money back, just the cost of these.  It was almost half the case.”

“If I had to give money back every time somebody had one or two little unopened mussels in their batch, I would be out of work,” the fisherman spat.

“This is not one or two!” Yuuri yelled, gesturing in disbelief at the basket.

“Take your shit and get out of here!” the man shouted back.  “And the next time you try to con me like this I’m charging you double.”

Yuuri could hardly believe it.  He’d never been accused of lying like this before; the sense of shame that filled him from the inside out was unbearable.  There was nothing else he could say to the man, so he grabbed up his basket, gripped his umbrella tightly, and left without another word.

He waited until he was well out of sight of the fisherman’s stall before stopping, seething with rage.  He wanted to go back, throw the entire basket of mussels in his face, and _demand_ his money back.  The anger and indignation was stifling; he’d never known anybody to be so blatantly stingy.  Things were bad financially for everybody, but that didn’t mean that people had to start cheating.

Or maybe it did.  Maybe that was the sort of place Hasetsu would become, and Yuuri was too naïve to see it.

Exhaustion filled his whole body.  He didn’t want to go back home, not yet.  He wasn’t ready to see the thinly veiled disappointment in his mother’s eyes.  Taking a breath, he forced himself to continue walking.  The rain made everything cold, and he was starting to get hungry.  When he got home he’d make himself and his mother a pot of tea.

He saw the first poster before he even made it out of the port.  It was stuck to the side of the eel vendor’s stall.  The same one, Yuuri realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, that he and Victor had planned on visiting right before everything fell to pieces.

An artist’s rendition of Victor’s face—a rather poor one, in Yuuri’s opinion—was below the large, bold word “PIRATE”.  Beneath the picture, it read:

_Warning:  Dangerous Criminal Sighted in Hasetsu_  
_Has Been Seen at the Port, Taverns, and Marketplace_  
 _DO NOT APPROACH AS THE PIRATE IS ARMED_  
 _Reward for Any Information Leading to Apprehension_

Yuuri remembered the day that Victor had met Vicchan, and the way he’d rolled on the ground with both dogs, laughing as carefree as a child.  A small smile spread across his lips.  _Dangerous Victor the Pirate…taken down by a single puppy._

“Scary, isn’t it?” asked the vendor as Yuuri stood there staring.  “Pirates in our town.”

“You really think someone like him is around here?”  Yuuri tried to sound nonchalant, but held his breath for the answer.

“Oh, definitely,” she replied, turning the eels over on the grill.  “In fact, I served him here just a few days ago.”

“…Really?”

She nodded and smiled.  “He was very polite.  Tipped me quite generously, too.”

“Why didn’t you report him, then?”

“Oh, that was before the posters came around.  In fact, I think it was the very next day that they gave me this one.”

Yuuri paused and let the words process in his brain.  “Wait…” he said after an extended moment of silence.  “Does that mean…he was here yesterday?”

She looked up at the sky, thinking.  “Umm…actually, now that I think of it, it just might have been.”

“How sure are you?”

“I see a lot of people, but he sticks out in my mind.  Probably because he overpaid so much,” she added with a laugh.

_He might still be here…he might actually still be here!_   Yuuri’s heartrate jumped high enough to make him dizzy.  Every possible emotion hit him at once:  fear, elation, guilt, relief…which one was right?  Shouldn’t he be mad?  He’d sent Victor away and yet, Victor remained.  And now, he was exposed, and everybody knew he was here.  It made no sense.  It was foolish, it was reckless…it was a miracle.

_Why didn’t he leave?  Was it because of the storm?_

Even as the questions grew ever more numerous in his mind, only one thought prevailed over them all.

_I have to find him.  I have to find him and tell him I’m sorry._

Yuuri gripped the umbrella and took off running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support so far! It really means so much more than I can say. Please let me know what you think in the comments and next week some more exciting stuff is coming =D


	7. Chapter 7

_“Oh we were sea bound and aimless at best,_  
_Clutching to the wheel and those charts,_  
_but that sea was just a gambler at heart”_

_\- “That Sea, The Gambler”_

 

Yuuri ran through the port, eyes darting back and forth at the stalls, boats, and shops.  Anything even remotely pink caught his eye for as long as it took for him to confirm that it wasn’t Victor.  He pushed past people, muttering half-spoken apologies as his heart raced and sweat mixed with the rain splashing his face.  The port, which had seemed so empty before, was now seemingly filled with more people than Yuuri was sure were even living in Hasetsu.

And none of them were Victor.

He paused once he reached the end of the docks, breathing raggedly as passersby tried not to stare.  The rain was picking back up.  His umbrella thumped incessantly with the pounding of thick drops of water, and his already damp pant legs were soaked.  He had to stop and think.  He had to be calm.

_Victor won’t just be out walking around anymore.  He’s got to know that people know he’s here.  He’s hiding…but who in Hasetsu would hide a pirate?_

He set the basket of dead mussels on the ground and wiped the rain from his glasses.  He thought back to what Minako had told him when he first found out the truth.

_I’ve been asking people around town for days._

_There’s rumors about pirates from up north sneaking into coastal towns._

_A few people know_ exactly _who he is._

He swallowed hard and took in another deep breath.  There _were_ people in Hasetsu that knew pirates well enough to know Victor by sight.  Victor had more than enough money with him to buy almost anybody’s cooperation, especially those types.  Yuuri couldn’t fathom why he’d stayed here, but he hoped and prayed that he would stay just a little bit longer.  Long enough for Yuuri to tell him one last thing.

_How am I supposed to find you, Victor?  I’m not like you or Minako…I don’t know who to even ask for help._

For the briefest moment, complete despair washed over him.  The very idea that Victor was still here was based on almost nothing.  Yuuri picked the basket back up.  He’d been out long enough by now that his mother was probably worrying.  Vicchan was doubtless pouting that he’d been denied a chance to play in the rain yet again.

_Wait…wait!_   Yuuri’s eyes went wide.  _That’s it!  Nobody will tell me if they’ve seen Victor, but if I say I’m looking for a dog instead…._

He could have laughed with delight.  The wanted poster had said nothing at all about Makkachin.  It wouldn’t be suspicious in the slightest for him to ask about her.

_Now all I have to do is…._

He grabbed the first sailor that walked by.  “Excuse me,” he said, drawing the natural distress he was already feeling into his voice, “I’ve lost my dog.  Can you help me?”

“Um…” the sailor replied, taken off guard.  “I don’t know, what kind of dog?”

“She’s a big brown poodle.”

“No, haven’t seen anything like that, sorry.”  He shook off Yuuri’s grip and walked away.

Yuuri looked around for the next person, somebody who didn’t know him, who didn’t know Vicchan….

“Excuse me!”

 

It only took half an hour for somebody to finally say they recalled seeing a big dog out by the docks the other day.  But it hadn’t been recently, and they could offer no further help.  Yuuri pushed down the impulse to let discouragement overtake him.  He knew that he was close.  This plan would work.  He’d just have to be patient.

Another half hour later, Yuuri had asked nearly everybody at the port about Makkachin.  They all had the same answer:  they’d seen her around, but not lately.  His mind was racing, desperate for ideas for what to do next.  If Victor was hiding, it wouldn’t be around here.  It was much more likely to be at an inn, or somewhere further into town.  The only problem was, in town more people knew Yuuri.  They knew Vicchan too, and that Yuuri didn’t own a dog that fit Makkachin’s exact description.  It would be riskier.  There was even the chance of running into Minako, however slim.

Yuuri swallowed tightly and tried to stuff down the itching guilt in his chest.  He didn’t want to even think about the possibility of letting Minako down.  She’d be furious if she found out what he was doing…if she even so much as suspected it.

_It’s not like I’m going to tell him to stay,_ he told himself.  _I just need to apologize.  Now that I know he wasn’t lying to me after all._

He steeled himself and pressed onward.  He would make this right.  He had to.

 

Yuuri was beginning to jump at the slightest of sounds.  Everything sounded like a dog’s barking…everything sounded like his name, or a thickly accented voice laughing with joy.  It sounded like what was now the hundredth time somebody told him that no, they hadn’t seen a dog like that ever in their life.  The rain was getting colder and heavier, and the clouds rolled in blocking out what little sunlight was left in the day.  In his hands, the basket was soaked almost to ruin, and the umbrella was doing almost nothing to keep him dry.

Although he’d spoken to plenty of people that had seen Makkachin—and plenty more than hadn’t—nobody could tell him exactly where.  Some had seen her at the beach.  Others in the back alley of a restaurant.  Still others had seen her walking freely in the marketplace.  Yuuri checked everywhere, no matter how improbable.  There was no sign of her.  And there was definitely no sign of pink velvet, peacock feathers, or silver braided hair.

After hours and hours of searching, it was becoming evident that Yuuri’s great idea had been pointless in the end.  And on top of everything, he’d spent the better part of the day on an errand that should have only taken a few minutes.  He couldn’t imagine what his mother must be thinking now.  She was probably sick with worry.  Once again, Yuuri’s fault.

Yuuri found himself back down at the port.  It was almost empty now, the rain clearing out even the most stalwart vendors.  Warm yellow light spilled out from the windows and doors of the port taverns, filled to the brim with sailors and merchants seeking shelter and company.  Yuuri did wonder, more than once, if he were to just step inside and look around, that he might find Victor in there.  But he couldn’t go anywhere looking like he did:  drenched and carrying a stinking basket of cold dead mussels.

He looked down at the shellfish, pulling away a corner of the cloth.  Useless.  Not even worth the money they’d been bought with.  A burden, a disappointment, an absolute waste of all effort.

_I still haven’t learned, have I?  If I can’t stop being selfish, then I’m no good to anyone._   Yuuri placed the cloth back in place and walked down the closest pier.  He had to go home, but there was no use bringing these back with him.

He passed a large merchant frigate anchored to the left side of the pier, swaying gently back and forth in the soft waves.  Yuuri stepped deftly over the ropes that were wrapped in complex knots around the cleats, and around the gangplank leading up to the ship’s deck.  Despite the rain and the noise of swirling winds, the ship itself made very little sound except for an occasional wooden creak.  It had always seemed strange to Yuuri that something so massive could sit so still and silent.

He slung one arm through the handle of the basket, freeing the non-umbrella hand to grab the dead mussels and toss them into the water.  Yuuri lost sight of them almost immediately as they sank below the dark surface.  They too made hardly a sound.

He took his time, sometimes throwing out one at a time, other times whole handfuls.  There was no rush.  He had nothing to bring home that anybody was waiting on.

The wind kicked up in a sudden rush of air, and Yuuri gripped his umbrella just tight enough to keep it from blowing away.  Pellets of hard rain hit him in the back, and he tensed at the onslaught of chill.  He sneezed, shivering, and prayed that he wasn’t going to wake up sick tomorrow morning.

A dog barked from somewhere behind him, and Yuuri’s heart sank anew.  It was bad enough out here without being reminded of Victor, and how Yuuri would never get a chance to see him again.

The bark came again, louder, and more insistently.  Yuuri regained control of his umbrella and looked over his shoulder, squinting into the rain.  The sound, he realized, was coming from somewhere above him.

Yuuri dared to let his heart jump with renewed hope as he looked up to the railing of the merchant ship and saw Makkachin, her fur damp with rain, her bandanna soaked, and her mouth open wide as she barked and barked and barked.

“Makkachin—what—” He could hardly get himself to move as realization blossomed within him.  He ran down to the gangplank of the ship as Makkachin followed him up by the railing, jumping and yipping and wagging her tail fast enough to knock the raindrops out of the air.  When Yuuri arrived at the bottom of the plank, he didn’t even give himself a moment to think as he ran up and onto the ship.

Makkachin greeted him with uncontrollable enthusiasm.  She couldn’t decide if she wanted to spin in circles, jump on Yuuri, run around Yuuri, bark, or whine, and so she did as many as she could all at once.  Yuuri knelt down and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his face against her fur, laughing at the miraculous sight of her, choking back tears for what this all meant.  She licked his face, lapping away the rain and the tears, nuzzling into him with such force he nearly fell over.

She lifted her head and raised up her ears, then wriggled out of Yuuri’s grasp as she went bounding away towards the other end of the ship.  Yuuri stood up, setting the basket aside, and watched as Victor approached her, chastising her in that beautiful, beautiful language, his shining hair loose and long around his face.

Victor gazed up and locked eyes with Yuuri, and the whole sea went silent for an instant.

“…Yuuri?” Victor breathed out, all color draining from his face.  He took a tentative step forward.  “I promise—I promise this isn’t what it looks like—”

Before Victor could stammer out the rest of his sentence, Yuuri dashed forward, tossed the umbrella away, and threw his arms around him.  The collision nearing knocked Victor off his feet.  Yuuri buried his wet face into the dry cotton of Victor’s plain white shirt, shivering as the scent of warm perfume flooded his senses.

“You’re still here,” Yuuri laughed and cried, squeezing Victor’s body as tightly as he dared.  “I can’t believe you’re really still here….”

“I’m sorry,” was all Victor was saying, over and over as he held Yuuri close.  “I promise I really am leaving just like I said, it’s just that—”

“No, no, please don’t.”  Yuuri pulled himself away from Victor and looked him straight in his wide blue eyes.  “Please don’t go, Victor.  I’m sorry for everything I said to you, I didn’t know what I was talking about at all, I know it’s not your ship out there and you didn’t deserve the terrible things I said….”

“Yuuri…” Victor said softly, reaching out and taking his hand.  “You’re soaking wet, let me take you inside and get you dried off—”

“I want you to stay!”

Now that the words were out, now that they were real, Yuuri allowed himself to believe it.  He allowed himself to accept that it was all he had wanted since the day he’d sat in the grass with him, watching Victor draw a picture of him hanging dyed curtains on the clothesline.  Maybe even as far back as the day he’d walked into the shop, covered in jewelry and gold, with a smile to light up the blackest night on the ocean.

Victor could only blink, his mouth hanging open for words that he couldn’t quite reach.

“I want you to stay here,” Yuuri said again, holding tight onto Victor’s hand, “and I want to make your stupid vest.”

It seemed an eternity before the fullness of Yuuri’s words sank in.  Slowly, a smile spread across Victor’s face, culminating in a soft laugh.

“…I can’t stay here,” he said, even as the smile grew ever bigger.  “You know this, Yuuri.”

“I know that you’re the King of Gold and you can do whatever you want,” Yuuri insisted.  “And I’m just…asking you to consider maybe….”  He paused, pursing his lips together and swallowing down his shaking anxiety.  “…I just don’t want you to leave.”

Victor’s smile faded, and he gazed down at the wooden, slippery deck beneath their feet.

“I know it’s selfish,” Yuuri continued, his voice shaking, “and I know it’s stupid because we haven’t even known each other that long, but—”

“I don’t want to leave you either.”

Yuuri’s heart stopped, heat flaring out from the center of his whole being.  Victor looked back up at him, and Yuuri would have done anything he asked in that moment.  If Victor had asked him to leave Hasetsu and sail away with him, Yuuri would have done it without another thought.

“And…if you would allow me,” Victor continued warily, “I would like another chance.  I’ve been a terrible friend to you.”

Yuuri burst out laughing and wiped his eyes.  “Victor,” he giggled, “that’s backwards.”

Victor blushed and grinned shyly.  He reached down for Yuuri’s umbrella and shook loose the rainwater that had built up inside.  He held it over Yuuri’s head and said, “You should come inside.”

Yuuri nodded and followed him below deck.  Makkachin jumped along behind, wagging her tail and briefly stopping to shake herself off.  It was dark and musty inside the ship, and it smelled strongly of wet dog once Makkachin came inside.  Yuuri didn’t mind it so much.  Vicchan had been smelling quite the same for the past week or so.  The cabin walls were lined with two tiers of bunk beds, and the bottom bunk in the far right corner was covered in paper, pencils, empty bottles, and a very distinct peacock feather hat.

“Sorry, let me clean this up a little,” Victor mumbled, grinning even as he blushed.  He darted over and gathered up all the papers and shoved them underneath the bunk.  Makkachin looked at the bed with a deliberate gaze in her eyes, but Victor waved her away just as she was about to jump up.

“I think there’s a towel around here, one moment,” Victor said again, rushing over to another corner of the cabin.  He dug through a small trunk until he found a dingy white towel.  “Here we are!”

Yuuri was suddenly aware of how cold and damp he was, standing there dripping water all over the floor.  The heat in his chest was making him sweat underneath his clothes, creating a strange type of humidity that would have been unbearable if he wasn’t so ridiculously happy.

He could hardly believe that Victor was really still here, and that he was safe, and from what Yuuri could tell, he didn’t even seem that mad.  He’d been expecting Victor to reject his apology, to tell him to leave and go home and never try to find him again.  But he’d said none of that…instead, he wanted the same thing Yuuri did.  It barely felt real.

Victor approached him, and before Yuuri could thank him, Victor gently, with deft reverence, took Yuuri’s glasses and pulled them from his face.  Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat, unable to tear his eyes away as Victor folded them up and laid them carefully on the bunk.  Victor opened out the towel and placed it on Yuuri’s head, soft, strong hands massaging the dampness from his hair.  Unconsciously, Yuuri let his head dip forward to allow Victor better access.  It was almost unnecessary; Yuuri always forgot how much taller Victor was until they were close together like this.

Victor’s touch was firm, but slow, deliberate, and full of the utmost care.  He gently pulled the towel from the back of Yuuri’s neck to just above his forehead, over and over, and then pressed the towel against Yuuri’s cheeks and down his jawline.  When he took hold of Yuuri’s head and tilted it back up, Yuuri was met with his smiling, dancing blue eyes, full of so much tenderness his heart ached.

“There we go,” Victor said, smiling wide.

Yuuri blushed and couldn’t hold back his giggle.  “Thank you,” he said, taking the towel as Victor let it go.  He dried the excess water from the rest of his clothes as best he could, but he would definitely need a warm bath when he got back home.

“Please, have a seat.”  Victor pulled out a small stool and set it next to his bunk, gesturing for Yuuri to sit.  He did so, glad to be off his feet after running all over town.

“Is this where you’ve been staying this whole time?” Yuuri asked, glancing around the small cabin.  Victor handed him back his glasses, and Yuuri wiped the lenses clean with a corner of the towel.

“Well, only recently,” replied Victor as he plopped down on the edge of his bunk.  “The captain of this ship was going to take me back to my crew, but he keeps delaying our departure because of the storm.”

“Victor…do you know that there are wanted posters of you all over town?”

Victor’s eyes lit up.  “Really?  Did you bring me one?”

“What?  No, of course not.”

“I’ll have to get one next time I go into town.  I’ve got a collection, you know.”

Yuuri laughed.  “You collect your own wanted posters?  How many do you have?”

“Uhh…about ten, maybe twelve?  Yeah, I keep them on the wall next to my bed on my own ship.”  Victor nodded, his expression full of pride.

“That doesn’t surprise me all that much.”  The smile fell from Yuuri’s face.  “…People are looking for you in town, though.  I don’t think it’s safe for you anywhere.”

“Oh, nonsense, Yuuri.”  Victor waved his hand dismissively.  “Do you know how many cities I’m wanted in?  I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”  Yuuri thought of Minami and his father’s pistol.  He thought of Takeshi, with his three new daughters and a fervor for protecting his family.

“Absolutely.”  Victor nodded.  “You don’t need to worry about me.  I’ll give the captain the second half of his payment, and I’ll find somewhere else in town to stay.”

Yuuri’s heart raced, and for a moment he forgot his worry.  Victor was really going to stay…it was really happening.

“Okay,” Yuuri said, his voice soft.  “I’m…I’m really glad.”

“I’ll be fine, but what about you?” Victor asked, his brow furrowing with concern.  “It’s a crime, you know.  Associating with a pirate.  …Are you really sure you want me to stay?”

Yuuri didn’t even have to think about it.  “I’m sure.”  The words came quietly, but he was certain of the truth of them with every piece of his heart.  “…I missed you.  When you weren’t around.”

He gazed down at the floor as he said it.  Had that been too forward?  What must Victor think of him, a foolish lovesick idiot?

“I missed you too.”  Yuuri’s eyes flicked up, and Victor had that expression again, the same fond gaze he’d given him after drying his hair.  It was almost too much to bear, but Yuuri wanted to drown in it just the same.

“I learned some stuff after you left,” Yuuri said, feeling small and unworthy.  “My friend…he’s a sailor with the navy.  They’re going out after pirates soon, and he told me that the ship off our shores is owned by somebody named King JJ.”  He paused, swallowing hard.  “I’m sorry that I accused you.  I didn’t know what I was talking about at all.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” replied Victor with a light chuckle.  “You’re far too sweet for your own good, do you know that?  You couldn’t have known.”

“I’m really not.”  He shook his head.  “I just…I don’t know a lot of things about how the world works.  And I thought that…I guess I thought that it wasn’t a big deal, but then you came, and….”  _And now I want to know everything.  Everything about you._

“There’s no shame in that, Yuuri.  Whether you know everything or you don’t, you’re still a good person.  You’re….”  Victor stopped abruptly, averting his gaze towards somewhere else in the room.

“I’m what?”

“Nothing,” Victor murmured.

“What?” Yuuri goaded, laughing.  Victor’s pale face colored bright red and he smiled.

“You’re good,” was all Victor said.

Yuuri giggled, his stomach and heart fluttering endlessly.  For a moment there was nothing but the gentle rocking of the ship and the sounds of Makkachin snoring as she lay curled up on the floor.  Yuuri knew that he had to head home soon.  He’d been out far too long, and he was loathe to think of how his family must be worrying.

“Will you need any help finding somewhere to stay?” he asked quietly.

Victor chuckled.  “I’ll be all right.  I already have somewhere in mind.”

“Really?  Where?”

“I can’t go giving away all my secrets, now,” he said with a wink.  “Once Makkachin and I get settled, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”

Yuuri tried not to look disappointed as he nodded.  “Okay,” he conceded.  “Just…don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Yuuri stood up, shivering at the feeling of his wet clothing sticking to his body.  “I should probably go,” he said quietly.  “I was supposed to be home hours ago.”

Victor’s disappointment was evident; his entire face fell into a pout.  He sighed heavily and got to his feet.  “All right,” he complained.  “Makkachin and I should start packing anyway.”

Yuuri stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Victor’s body, squeezing him tightly and breathing him in.  He heard Victor chuckle and embrace him in return, nuzzling into the top of Yuuri’s head.  Yuuri wanted to say a hundred things, but nothing was enough.  He hugged Victor in silence, the shape of his body already starting to feel familiar.  He wanted to memorize every piece of it.

_I’m really glad you’re here._

 

Yuuri endured the onslaught of Mari’s scolding and his mother’s tears of relief in restrained silence.  Despite it all, he was nothing but ecstatic.  He began to feel for the first time that things were, somehow, going to be all right.

He soaked himself in a hot bath at Mari’s insistence, though she certainly didn’t need to tell him twice.  Yuuri felt the stress and the tension wash away until his mind was truly empty, and he laid in the water with eyes closed.  Even when his mind wandered to Victor and where he would hide, he knew that there was no cause to worry.  The King of Gold could find a place to sleep without the slightest trouble.

At dinner, Yuuri learned that the restaurant had served a staggering amount of people that day, and they had made more money than usual.  Enough to buy a few pounds of replacement mussels, in fact.  Yuuri smiled for them, and for once, felt no trace of guilt.

He headed up to bed after helping clean up.  The rain persisted, but the steady beat of droplets against his window was just a soothing rhythm.  Vicchan leapt into bed with him, but he sniffed Yuuri’s body all over, his ears perked up in obvious interest.

“Yes, that’s Makkachin,” Yuuri laughed, petting his head.  “I saw her again today.  You’ll get to see her again soon too.”

Vicchan licked his face and wagged his tail as though he’d actually understood.  In time, once he’d satisfied himself with inspecting Yuuri’s new scents, he plopped down beside him.  Yuuri hugged him close and let the fading storm sing him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are back together again and happy......but for how long??? =D And thus concludes what you could say is part one of the story, but we're not even close to finished! Plenty more fun times ahead.
> 
> You guys have been so sweet and so supportive through this so far, and I love each and every one of you so much! There are so many of you that comment on every single chapter and I love seeing your thoughts and reactions. Again, feel free to visit me at my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

_“They say I'm seeking out the danger_  
_That one day you won't let me go_  
_I'll drown, you'll take me down”_

_\- “Aquarius”_

Yuuri awoke the next morning with unfamiliar vigor.  The sun hadn’t quite returned from beyond the clouds, but the rain had finally stopped.  Ships in the port would begin to move again, and people would be picking up their orders from the dress shop.  It was still too wet to get started on the backlogged dye jobs, but that would come in time.

During breakfast with his family, Mari said that she would be going out to the fish market today to do some shopping, and that she would definitely be avoiding the mussel vendor that had given Yuuri such trouble yesterday.  Yuuri grinned, knowing that if Mari had been the one to confront the fisherman, a black eye would have been the least of the man’s worries.

It wasn’t as obvious these days, but Mari had had her share of trouble with confrontation in the past.  She was a good number of years older than Yuuri, and when she’d gone through the worst of her teenage years, he hadn’t understood why Mari was always angry and why his parents were always yelling at her.  Mari used to run with what his mother called “a bad crowd”, but Yuuri had never once in his life thought of his sister as scary.  He still recalled with fondness the day Mari had caught Takeshi pushing Yuuri down on the street.  She’d grabbed him and pulled his ears so hard it looked like they would pop right off.  After that day, Takeshi never laid another hand on him.

Mari hadn’t been in trouble for a long time, but Yuuri still sometimes caught a flash of something in her eyes whenever she got annoyed.  He wished he could be more like Mari.  Nobody ever had any trouble knowing her intentions.  When she was angry, people stayed out of her way.  When she had a thought, she said it straight out.

Mari probably would have made a good pirate, in another lifetime.

Yuuri could barely concentrate on his work at the shop.  He wanted to know where Victor was, he needed to make sure he was safe.  Victor had said Yuuri would be the first to know where he was staying, but Yuuri was impatient.  More than once, he caught himself staring out the window, completely distracted from the task at hand.  The later in the day it got, the more excited he felt.  Victor _had_ to contact him soon…there was no way he was having trouble with something as small as that.

It wasn’t until after the work day was over, when he returned home, that his father told him a letter had arrived for him that afternoon.

It was all Yuuri could do to not rip it open right then and there.  As calmly as he could manage, he thanked his father, then darted up to his room with Vicchan hot at his heels.  He threw his bag to the floor and tore open the letter.

_To the tailor of Okukawa Design and Repairs – I would like to thank you deeply for your services last week.  You have repaired my coat to the highest standard, and I am utterly in your debt.  I would be honored if you would allow me to continue using your services in the future._

In place of a signature was a single letter, a “V” drawn in perfect calligraphy, beside which was a small drawing of a lighthouse.

Yuuri’s grin was almost too big to contain on his face.

 

He could barely even wait until after dinner.  As soon as he was finished with his meal, he dismissed himself, saying that he hadn’t gotten a chance to walk Vicchan all week and he wanted to do it before it got dark.  It wasn’t even really a lie.  Vicchan was more than happy to go along with it, too.

Hasetsu’s lighthouse was atop a rocky cliff on the far south end of the beach.  It was tall enough to be seen from nearly everywhere in town, a stark white tower stretching high above the waves.  Yuuri would sometimes come here on his least busy days, with nothing but his sketchbook and Vicchan, and draw dresses for hours and hours.  If he positioned himself just right in the grass, all he’d be able to see would be the blue expanse of the ocean and the distant sails of ships.  It was a different kind of peace.

As he climbed the steep hill leading up to the lighthouse, Vicchan began barking and raced up the cliff, heedless of anything else besides what he was chasing.  When Yuuri crested the top of the hill, he found Vicchan and Makkachin, reunited at last, climbing all over each other with tails wagging in a blur.

“Yuuriiii…” came a lazy, pouty voice in the grass.  Victor laid flat on his back on the ground, his hat resting atop his stomach, flashing a scowl at Yuuri.  “I sent for you _hours_ ago.”

Yuuri giggled and sat down beside him.  “I’m sorry, but I still have to work, you know.”

“Oh, all right.”  Victor sat up, his earrings flashing with orange sunset light.  He set his hat down on his lap.

“Is this where you’ve decided to stay?” asked Yuuri, glancing up at the lighthouse.  “People are in here all the time, you know.”

“Oh, goodness no.”  Victor ran his fingers through his loose ponytail, shaking out bits of grass.  “There’s no coziness in a place like that.  No, I have higher standards.”

“Then where?”

Victor pointed over the edge of the cliff.  “Down there, by the beach.  There’s a little house that used to be the lighthouse keeper’s.  He stopped living there after he got married, and now nobody uses it.”  He winked.  “It needs some work, but I can fix it up to suit my needs just fine.”

“Oh right.”  Yuuri smiled.  “I remember that.  Minako made his wife’s wedding dress.”

“Did you help make that one too?”

Yuuri shook his head.  “I didn’t really do much.  I was still learning back then.  I think all I did was sew together the really big panels, and Minako did the hard parts.”

Victor laughed.  “Yuuri, you’re too funny.  That counts as helping.”

Yuuri allowed himself a small smile.  “I guess so.”

“Oh, speaking of.”  Victor turned his hat upside down and pulled forth a slightly wrinkled, heavily folded bolt of blue cotton cloth.  Yuuri’s breath caught when he saw it.  “I brought something for you.”

“You still have it,” Yuuri stated, his smile widening.  “I thought you’d just throw it away.”

“No…no, I couldn’t have.”  Victor glanced down at the fabric, blushing slightly.  He handed it to Yuuri, saying, “I do really want that vest, after all.”

Yuuri accepted the cloth, excitement welling up within him.  “All right,” he said.  “I, um…I don’t really know how long it’ll take.  I won’t be able to work on it at Minako’s shop, you know.”

“There’s no rush,” Victor replied as he put his hat back on.  “I’m willing to wait.”

Yuuri hugged the cotton close and nodded.

“So,” said Victor, leaning back in the grass on his elbows.  “What sorts of things are you and Minako making these days?”

“We’re expecting a new client soon.”  Yuuri set the cotton down on his lap and smoothed it out a bit.  “Somebody from out of town who wants a dress for his daughter.”

“A wedding dress?”

“No, just a regular evening gown.  Minako says that the daughter is kind of young.  I hadn’t really given it much thought because….”  _Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you._   “Because I’m not sure when they’ll be here for the consultation.  But I get more excited the more I think about it.”

“Why do you like to make dresses, Yuuri?”

The question, innocent though it was, caught Yuuri off guard.  He glanced down at the grass, the sound of wind and buoy bells swirling in the air around him.  He’d never really thought about _why_ before.  Probably because nobody had ever asked him.  It was an easy enough thing to explain to himself, but out loud, with words…where could he even begin?

“It’s just…” he murmured, picking at the cotton, “they seem simple, and not that hard to make, but there’s almost nothing else that has as much thought put into it.  There’s always something new that you can do with them.  The exact same design can feel completely different just by changing the colors, and…and when I make one for somebody, and she puts it on and you can see the change in her face when she sees how beautiful she is, and not just that she looks pretty but she _feels_ pretty, it’s just….”  Yuuri paused, giggling.  “I don’t know.  It’s nice.  It feels like I’ve done something that really matters.”

He glanced over at Victor, who was beaming wide, a slight blush high on his cheeks, his eyes sparkling.  Yuuri covered his face with his hands and turned away.  “Aaaah, it’s stupid, it’s stupid, forget I said anything!”

Victor began to laugh, and Yuuri wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and die.  “Yuuriiiii,” he teased, giggling.

Yuuri only groaned and felt his face flush hotter.

He heard grass rustling and the shift of Victor’s body, and then felt the heat of him close by.  “Yuuri,” Victor said again, and again Yuuri’s heart swelled to hear Victor’s unique way of intoning his name.  Victor lightly bumped his shoulder against him.

Yuuri peeked out from behind his hands.  Victor was looking at him from beneath raised eyebrows, lips pursed in a cheeky smile.  Yuuri snorted and held back a laugh.  “What?” he demanded.

Victor burst out laughing.  “You’re so cute, Yuuri.”

“I am not,” he replied indignantly.

 

Yuuri sat at his work table in his room, his lantern burning bright in the dim room.  The window was open to let in what moonlight he could get, and Vicchan snored heavily on the bed.  Yuuri’s notes and sketches of Victor’s vest lay strewn across the table.  He hadn’t expected the basics of it to take long, but the more he stared at his notes of the measurements and Victor’s drawing, the more he worried about getting it to fit him properly.  He had never really mastered adjustments and all the different types of seams and darting, at least not for a man’s figure.

His eyes drifted to the dress form in the corner, the unfinished silk dress still taunting him from the darkness.  Yuuri gripped his pencil and shut the notebook.  He cleared away the mess on the table and unfolded the cotton, spreading it and smoothing it out.

_This is going to be a good vest,_ he thought as he took hold of his chalk.  He began to measure and trace the main panels of the vest, going as slow and diligently as he ever had.  _It’s going to be better than Victor even expects.  And then the new client’s dress is going to be even better than that.  I’ll make enough money to buy more silk, and then my dress will be the best of all._

When he made the first cut into the cotton, he was exhilarated.

 

The old lighthouse keeper’s shack was not what Victor would call roomy, but the roof didn’t leak, most of the furniture was still there, and there was plenty of room outside the house for Makkachin to run free.  Victor had helped himself to the linens and pillow that he’d used on the merchant’s ship, being sure to leave an extra bit of money behind as thanks.  He missed his own bed and cabin aboard his own ship, but not enough to go back.

The very thought of leaving Hasetsu, of leaving Yuuri, had tormented him these past few days to the point where neither drink nor sleep brought any comfort.  And he couldn’t pinpoint _why_.  Yuuri made him happy, made him smile, made him feel some type of peace that he couldn’t explain…but why?  Ever since Victor had been young, he’d known the world to be cutthroat, chaotic, with victory only reachable by those who were willing to do absolutely anything.  He’d known crushing loss and ecstatic success, but not much of in between.   
Somewhere in the middle, there was a tranquility that couldn’t be reached from either side.

Victor wanted more of it.  He wanted more of Yuuri’s gentleness, his goodness.  It was new, and it was lovely.

And so he sat at his new desk, a piece of paper before him and a pen full of words he didn’t know how to express.  He took a breath, thought of only himself and his heart’s desire, as he always had, and gave it a try.

_Christophe – I have asked you for many things during our long friendship, and I hope you will suffer one final request._

 

Yuuri worked through the night, a decision he only regretted once he headed off to work.  He had gotten the panels finished, as well as those flashy tails Victor wanted, but tailoring the fit exactly would be difficult without fitting it on Victor.  He carefully folded the vest into his bag along with his measuring tape and a box of pins.  During lunchtime, he’d tell Minako that he needed to run a quick personal errand, and he’d take the vest to Victor’s hiding place.  With any luck, it should be finished tonight or the next day.

The sun was shining bright and hot today, a good day to start on the dye orders.  Yuuri strapped on his smock and got to work as soon as he arrived.  If he’d had to stay inside and sit at a table all day, he would have definitely fallen asleep.  A little physical labor would wake him up and keep him alert.  He’d need a clear head if he was going to fit the vest properly today.

People drifted in and out of the dress shop all day.  Yuuri could faintly hear the front door bell from the yard, and foot traffic was heavy in the street.  Not surprising, considering how cooped up the entire town had been.  He could see more of Victor’s posters plastered on the sides of buildings, and pieces of conversation floated to him on the breeze.  The topic of pirates was on everybody’s mind, it seemed.  The navy ships had arrived yesterday, and the ship Takeshi would be on was leaving port today.  Yuuri was always worried whenever Takeshi left, but he had always pulled through all right.  He’d be safe.  He’d have to be.

As he’d hoped, dyeing made the day go by faster.  He reached a good stopping point and set his gloves and smock aside.

“Minako,” he said as he stepped into the store.  She was working on the ledger book with a wide smile.

“Yes, Yuuri?” she asked.

“I’ve got to run an errand real quick…what, why are you smiling like that?”

“Oh, I’m just looking over the books and really like what I see.”  She laughed.  “Business has been great these past few days.”

“Really?  That’s great!”

“Yep!  It’s a sign of good things to come, Yuuri.  The piracy had me worried for a little bit, but I feel like things will turn out okay.”  She set her pen aside.  “It’s lunchtime, let’s go somewhere.  My treat.”

“Oh…I’m sorry, I can’t,” Yuuri said as earnestly as he could.  “I have to go run a quick errand for home.”

“Oh, that’s right.”  Minako pouted dramatically.  “All right.  Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed.

The lighthouse shack was a little ways outside of town, and as far as Yuuri knew, nobody went there often enough that he had to worry about being spotted.  He could just as well have been heading to the beach.  Nevertheless, he felt equal parts nervous and giddy as he climbed down the hill towards Victor.

On the outside, the house didn’t look much different from what it had always been.  It was a good hiding place, all things considered.  As long as nobody thought about it too hard, or went investigating, Victor should have no trouble being left alone.

He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and knocked softly on the door.  Makkachin’s barking was an instantaneous response.  He heard her claws scratching on the door from the inside, and when the door opened, he was assaulted by her large fluffy paws as she jumped and greeted him.

“Yuuri!” Victor said, pushing past Makkachin and throwing his arms around Yuuri.  He hugged him tight, but the embrace only lasted a moment.  “I didn’t know you were visiting me today!  I would have worn something nicer.”

Yuuri snorted a laugh.  “I’m sorry, I probably should have let you know.”

“Not at all, I love being surprised.”  Victor grinned, his teeth as white as his usual cotton shirt.  His hair looked unbrushed and hung in flyaway strands around his face.  There were earrings in only one of his ears, as if Yuuri had caught him in the middle of putting them on.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything to eat or drink,” Victor said as he let Yuuri inside and shut the door.  The shack was dim, lit only by the sunlight coming in through dirty glass windows.  “I haven’t had a chance to go shopping yet.”

Yuuri set his bag down and glanced around the house.  “I wasn’t even thinking of that…Victor, do you want me to buy you some food?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Yuuri.”  Victor sat down in front of a smudged mirror and began to run a brush through his long silver hair.  “I’ll be all right.”

Yuuri watched, mesmerized, as Victor brushed his hair with intense focus.  He tilted his head back and to the side as he worked the tangles free, the hair smoothing out and regaining shine as strands fell from his fingers.  He gathered the hair over his left shoulder, separated it into three sections, and began to braid it.

“I-I just,” Yuuri stammered, realizing that his staring had resulted in an awkward silence, “I don’t want you to worry about being seen or going into town or anything.”

“Hmm?”  Victor glanced over his shoulder.  “Why would I be worried about that?”

“Victor,” Yuuri sighed.  “The posters, remember?”

Victor’s eyes went wide.  “Did you bring me one?”

“I did.”  Yuuri reached down into his bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper.  He handed it to Victor, who unfolded it like a child receiving a new toy.

“But really, Victor,” Yuuri continued, “please don’t do anything reckless.  Just…if you need something from town, tell me and I’ll get it for you.”

Victor sighed softly and smiled.  “Okay, Yuuri.  I’m not good at behaving, I have to admit, but I’ll try for you.”

“Thank you.”  Yuuri smiled back, his heartbeat racing.

“Now.”  Victor set the poster down and stood up.  “To what do I owe this wonderful surprise visit?”

“Oh…um, well….”  Yuuri knelt down and carefully removed the vest from his bag.  He held it out in front of him for Victor to see; Victor, whose eyes were wide and attentive, could not have looked more delighted.

“You’ve done this much _already_?” Victor asked.  “Yuuri, you’re amazing!”

“It’s nothing, really,” Yuuri murmured.  “But…I was hoping that you would be all right with trying it on and…letting me get the fit right.”

“Of course!”

Yuuri handed him the vest, which Victor received as though it might fall apart in his hands if he moved it too quickly.  He put it on, slowly and with the utmost care, and he laughed, his face nothing but glee.

“I love it, Yuuri!” he said, holding his arms out and turning his head to see the tails.  He spun around once, his smile growing bigger to see how the fabric moved behind him.

“Well, it’s not quite done yet.”  Yuuri put his box of pins on the table by Victor’s mirror.  “I still need to put the buttons on, and hem it, and make sure that it fits right….”

“Yuuri,” came Victor’s voice, the hint of laughter around the edges of his name.

“Right.”  Yuuri blushed a little.  “Thank you.  I’m glad you like it so far.”

Victor strode up to him and extended his arms out to each side.  “All right, Yuuri, where do you want me?”

Yuuri circled around Victor for what felt like hours, finding a new flaw every minute.  The vest was too long, there was too much room for Victor’s shoulders, and worst of all, the tails were uneven.  Yuuri couldn’t believe how sloppy it looked, sitting on Victor’s body for the first time, and an almost paralyzing sense of embarrassment surged through him as he worked.  He couldn’t bear to look Victor in the eyes.  Victor was probably regretting everything now, wishing he hadn’t asked for this terrible thing, wishing he had taken the chance to leave Hasetsu while he could.

Yuuri swallowed it down as best he could, sticking the pins in with shaking fingers.  He wouldn’t dare poke Victor with them; that would be a level of awkward he wouldn’t be able to take.

And just like that, Victor flinched and muttered a soft exhale of pain.  Yuuri jerked away from his body like he’d touched an open flame.

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri exclaimed, dropping the pin on the floor.  “Victor, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to stab you like that, are you all right?  You’re not bleeding, are you?”

“What?” Victor looked perplexed.  “Yuuri, you barely touched me.  I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry, I just….”  Yuuri shoved his hands under his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  “I’m sorry, I’ve messed this whole thing up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can do a lot better than this, Victor, I promise.  I’m not going to stop until it’s perfect.”

Victor frowned and stepped forward.  He placed his hands on Yuuri’s cheeks, his warm, wide, calloused hands, and looked him dead in the eye.  “Yuuri,” he said, his voice low and soft.  “It’s already perfect.”

Yuuri tried to shake his head, but Victor’s hold was firm.  He reached up and took hold of Victor’s thin wrists.  “I just didn’t realize I’d made so many mistakes….”

“You told me yourself you’d never done anything like this before.  And you made something that I truly, truly think is wonderful in just one day.”

Yuuri cast his eyes down at the ground, and saw the discarded pin on the floor between them.

Victor loosened his hold a bit, settling his hands along Yuuri’s jawline, fingertips touching him gently like porcelain.  “Yuuri, do you know how often I mess up on my art?  I’ve thrown away so many pieces that I was sure were going to be my absolute best work.  But it’s okay, because what I make afterward is always better.  So what I mean is…this is your first vest you’ve ever made, right?”

Yuuri nodded.

“And it’s only got a few little adjustments that it needs.  There’s no need to throw this one away.  Think of how much better your next vest will be, or the next dress, or the next new thing you try.”

Yuuri glanced up.  “I guess…” he mumbled.  A pause.  “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You haven’t.  Yuuri, you surprise me every single day.”

Victor was smiling at him, and Yuuri forced up a smile of his own.  His stomach was still twisted into hard, painful knots, and he knew that Victor couldn’t tell exactly how bad the tailoring was on the vest.  There was still a ton of work to be done before it could be called anything close to “perfect”.

Yuuri swallowed and presented his best fake smile.  “Okay,” he said.  “I’ll keep working on it.”

_It has to be flawless.  Victor can’t regret his decision for even a minute.  I have to show him it was worth it to stay._

Victor dragged his fingertips down Yuuri’s jaw and under his chin, pulling away with a wink.

The rest of the fitting went by without another word or incident.  The vest had pins everywhere, and Yuuri had to help Victor out of it to ensure that none of them would fall out, or worse, stick themselves in Victor.  Yuuri folded it up as best he could and placed it down inside his bag.

“Are you coming back later?” Victor asked with hopeful eyes.

Yuuri hoisted his bag up onto his shoulder and said, “Sure.  I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“That sounds wonderful!  It’s a date.”

Yuuri laughed, and this time, it was genuine.  “Yeah…it’s a date.”

 

When Yuuri got back to the dress shop, Minako rushed him the minute he stepped in the door.  She threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight enough to punch the air from his lungs, and shaking him side to side.

“Yuuri!” she yelled, her voice ragged.  “Where have you _been_!?”

“Wh—what?” Yuuri asked, steadying himself as Minako’s wild embrace threatened to knock him off his feet.

“Yuuri!” Minako shouted again, stepping back and gripping his shoulders.  “You were gone for _two hours!_   I thought something had happened to you!”

Yuuri’s heart seized up, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.  Had he really lost track of time that badly?  “I…I was?”

“Yes!”  Minako released him and turned away, one hand on her hip and the other clutching her forehead.  “Yuuri, you can’t do that to me!”

“I’m sorry.”  Yuuri cringed inwardly.  He had had no idea that he’d been gone long enough for anyone to notice.

“Yuuri,” Minako said, turning back to face him.  “You know that pirate is still in town, right?  The one you were hanging out with last week.”

He stiffened, and gripped the strap of his bag.  “Yeah, I—I know.  I’ve seen the posters.”

Minako paused, narrowing her eyes at him.  Yuuri had seen that look before.  It felt like she was piercing straight through his lies.  “Your mother told me you went out the other day and didn’t come home until evening.  That’s not like you, Yuuri.”

“I just….”  Yuuri looked away.  He couldn’t take it when she gazed at him like that.  “Th-the vendor was giving me a hard time, and I was trying to find replacement mussels for my mother, and…I just didn’t want to go home empty-handed.  It took me a long time, that’s all.”

Minako was silent, and Yuuri felt his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.  It could have been an hour that she stared at him, quiet and unreadable.

“Yuuri.”  He flinched.  “You’re not still seeing that pirate, are you?”

“What?”  Yuuri tried to laugh, as if it was a ridiculous notion, but it was painfully unconvincing.  “Why would you think that?”

“If you are,” she continued, “then you need to stop.  Right now.  Whatever he’s told you is a lie, and you cannot trust him.”

_How would you know that?  Do you think you know him better than I do?  It’s none of your business, Minako.  You don’t know anything._   Yuuri bit down on his tongue to keep the words inside his mouth.  They were dangerously close to slipping free.

“Pirates don’t do anything but hurt people,” Minako said, the taste of old bitterness in her words.  “And I don’t want that for you.”

Yuuri took a breath, exhaled, and nodded.  “I understand,” he replied.  “But I promise…I’m not seeing him.  In fact, the last time I spoke to him, I told him to leave.”

She inspected his face, searching for any hints of deception.  For all Yuuri knew, the lie was as plain as day on his face.  But if Minako suspected anything, Yuuri had no clue.

Minako eventually sighed, weariness flooding into her expression.  She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Yuuri in a gentle embrace.

“Yuuri, please, just…be careful,” she whispered into his shoulder.  “Promise me, okay?”

“I promise.”  He returned the hug, swallowing down guilt so thick he could choke on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I keep posting so late on Sundays lately! I'll try to get new chapters to you guys sooner in the future.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments below, and as always come visit me at my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I know the chapter is late this week, I'm sorry to make you wait. Basically, I decided to adjust the update schedule a little bit, the details of which I talked about at my tumblr. No need to worry, I'm just going to slow my roll a little bit and take a little more time to make sure I'm giving you all my best. I love this AU too much to give it anything but my all!
> 
> That said, you guys are gonna like this one, I'm sure :D

_“A hole in my heart, a changing desire_   
_My softest command: set this love afire_   
_Give in, breathe out, I'm lost this time_   
_And I cannot deny it; I'm in a different state of mind”_

_\- “Limitless”_

 

When Yuuri arrived home from work, later than usual since he’d stayed to finish the dye orders, he went straight up to his room without drawing the attention of anybody in the restaurant.  Vicchan followed him, whining in confusion, and Yuuri picked him up to carry him up the stairs.  Yuuri set him down in his usual spot on the bed, but Vicchan only whined louder, placing his paws on Yuuri’s torso and shivering with anxiety.

“It’s okay, Vicchan,” Yuuri said, scratching his floppy ears.  “There’s nothing to worry about.”

It took a few solid minutes of scratches and pets for Vicchan to settle down.  He was attuned to Yuuri’s routine, and any deviation usually sent Vicchan into a brief fit.  Once he was satisfied that Yuuri was not sick or hurt, he turned around in tight circles on the bed and flopped down.

Yuuri took the vest out of his bag and spread it on his table.  It was too hard to think right now.  He may as well get some more of the vest done while he tried not to think of how he was going to continue lying to Minako and the rest of his family.

He’d never for a second planned ahead this far.  Thoughts of Victor had consumed him for so long, his selfishness taking over everything like always, that it had never occurred to him that the façade would take work to maintain.  What had his plan been?  To lie to them for the rest of his life, until Victor was arrested, or worse, if he just decided to leave?

Yuuri sighed loudly to clear the nagging from his brain.  He studied the pin markings he’d made on the vest, and numbed himself to everything except the pulling of thread through fabric.

 

Vicchan’s low growling and barks woke him up.  Yuuri started awake, banging his knee on the underside of the table.  The confusion blocked out any hint of pain.  He readjusted his glasses on his face and looked around; for a few seconds, he had no idea where he was.

“Vicchan!” he hissed sharply.  Vicchan had his paws on the windowsill, leaning perilously far out the window, yapping over and over at something down on the street.  He just barely could reach the sill from his spot on the bed.  Yuuri leapt up and grabbed him away from the open window.

“Stop,” he whispered, firmly but with deep concern.  He petted Vicchan’s head, dragging his fingers down the puppy’s neck, but Vicchan would not be quieted.  His tiny body shook in Yuuri’s arms as he kept barking, whining and trying to wriggle away.  “Vicchan, what’s the matter?”

He heard it then:  another dog, barking in reply to Vicchan’s incessant noise, and Vicchan’s tail wagged with ferocity as he wiggled his whole body in a fierce attempt to break free.

Yuuri stepped to the window and gazed down at the street.  Yuuri’s room faced a small side street that didn’t see much traffic; in the distance, the lighthouse light shone bright out onto the water, and the moon was unobscured by any trace of clouds.  Clearly, it was many hours past midnight, but Yuuri couldn’t even recall when he’d fallen asleep.  The question was insignificant compared to the fact that Victor and Makkachin were standing on the street below Yuuri’s window, gazing up with identical, cheery eyes.

“Yuuri!” Victor called, waving with his whole arm.  Makkachin danced in circles at his feet, her tag wagging in time with Vicchan’s as she barked up at him.

“Victor!” Yuuri yelped breathlessly.  “What are you—” He was cut off by more of Vicchan’s excited barking, and he set the tiny dog down on the floor, where he immediately began to whine.  “Vicchan, hush!  Victor, make her stop barking!”

“Oh, sorry, sorry!”  Victor knelt down by Makkachin, rubbed her ears and hugged her, speaking in the language that only they knew.  Satisfied with his explanation, Makkachin sat down and went quiet, though the speed of her tail never faltered and her long pink tongue hung happily out of her mouth.

“What are you _doing?_ ”  It was a peculiar balance Yuuri needed, to speak loudly enough for Victor to hear, but quiet enough that nobody else would.

“You didn’t show up for dinner,” Victor replied, as if this were perfectly reasonable.

“No, I—” Yuuri covered his face with his hands, tried to shake the panic off, and continued:  “What are you doing out in the open?”

“Yuuri, nobody’s awake right now.  I didn’t see a single person on the street on my way over here.”

Yuuri had so many more questions that they formed a barricade in his mouth, until he was simply standing there, gaping and immobile.

Victor reached behind his neck and rolled his shoulders.  “Ugh, standing here looking straight up hurts my neck.  Can I come up?”

Yuuri wanted to protest, wanted to tell Victor in exact detail how bad of an idea that truly was, but having a half-yelled conversation in the middle of the night wasn’t much better.  Before he could think of exactly how Victor was to come in, he stammered, “U-uh…I guess so….”

“Great!”  Yuuri could see the way Victor’s cheeks flushed from where he stood.  He took off his hat and placed it gently on Makkachin’s head.  She stiffened for a second, sneezed, and continued panting.  “Hold that for me, girl.”

Yuuri could only watch in silent amazement as Victor took hold of the rain gutter pipe on the outside corner of the house and began to climb it, deft as a spider.  The night was silent except for the inexplicably soft taps of metal and Victor’s exhales of exertion.  In almost no time at all, Victor had reached the windowsill, face to face with Yuuri, and he laughed.

“Wow, I didn’t think I could actually make it all the way up here.”

Alarms went off in Yuuri’s head.  “Victor, you’re going to fall!” he shouted, tongue going dry with panic.  “Here, come here—just step on the windowsill and give me your hand—”

With Yuuri’s help, Victor squeezed his way in through the window, just barely big enough for him to fit through.  Vicchan spun in happy circles and leaned down on his front legs, struggling not to bark but clearly wanting to.  Once his feet were on the floor, Victor straightened up and flipped his bangs out of his face with a toss of his head.

“That was exciting,” he declared, grinning wide.

Yuuri was suddenly very aware of how small his room was, now that Victor was in it.

He was then _extremely_ aware of the fact that Victor was _in his room._   He swallowed, with great difficulty, and noticed every single little mess that Victor was definitely seeing.

“U-uh…” Yuuri stuttered uselessly as Victor sat on the floor, swatting playfully at Vicchan, who leapt into his lap without invitation.  “…Victor, where do I even start?”

“It’s not very nice to stand me up like that when we had plans.”  Victor looked up and pouted; from this angle, it looked very similar to Vicchan’s sad eyes whenever Yuuri was too busy to play with him.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Yuuri said, sitting down in his chair.  “I think I fell asleep.  I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”  Victor scratched the top of Vicchan’s head.  “I was worried something had happened.”

_…He was worried?  About_ me _?_

“Me?” Yuuri replied, hoping his deep blush wasn’t visible in the dim light.  “What about you?  Why are you walking around out in the open like this?  I keep telling you, people are _looking_ for you!”

“And I keep telling _you_ ,” Victor responded with a wink, “that it’s fine.  Do you really think I couldn’t handle things if it came right down to it?”

Again, the image of Minami flashed into his mind.  The excitable young boy, dreaming of entering the navy, holding his father’s smoking pistol.  Yuuri didn’t want to think about Victor on the other end of the barrel.  He didn’t want to think about what either of them would do, if one day it did come right down to it.

“It’s not that, Victor,” Yuuri replied with a deep sigh.  “I just…I don’t know, I guess I don’t want things to be more complicated than they already are.”

Victor was silent for a moment.  Vicchan was alternating between licking Victor’s fingers and shoving his nose into his palm.  His short snuffles and exhales were the only sounds in the room.

“Yuuri, come sit next to me,” Victor said eventually, patting the floor beside him.  Yuuri sighed again and decided to humor him.  He got up from the chair and cozied up beside Victor.  Vicchan climbed over into Yuuri’s lap and flopped over onto his back.  As Yuuri gave Vicchan the belly rub he demanded, Victor slung his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and hugged their bodies together.

“Listen,” Victor said, his voice calm and casual.  “I don’t want you to stress about me.  From now on, no more of that, okay?”

Yuuri peered at him from behind his glasses, eyelids lowered in exasperation.

“Promise?”  Victor gave him that look again that reminded him far too much of Vicchan.

“I can’t promise not to worry.  It’s just about all I do.”

Victor frowned, considering that.  Before he could stop himself, Yuuri found that more words were tumbling out.

“Also Minako is already suspicious of me.”  Yuuri glanced down at the floor, unable to look Victor in the eye.  He hated this; he was being a burden to Victor, taking everything and giving nothing back in return.

“Well, Minako seems to be the suspicious type,” Victor murmured, still thinking.  “I can’t blame her; I’m that way too.”

“I want to be with you, Victor, I just don’t know how.”

The words hung in the air between them, fluttering like curtains lifted by a morning breeze.  Yuuri was paralyzed, unable to even move his tongue, as he realized exactly what he’d said.  Victor, too, seemed blindsided.

After a moment, Victor grinned the delighted grin of a schoolboy.  “‘With’ me?” he repeated.  “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, I just mean—I mean…” Yuuri stammered, feeling hot and prickly and like he was breathing way too hard.  “I-I like…spending time with you, that’s all.”

“ _Is_ that all?” Victor asked, bringing his face closer to Yuuri’s.  Yuuri could feel each muscle of Victor’s arm where it lay just behind his shoulders.  Could smell his fading perfume and masculine musky scent, the warmth of his cotton shirt heated from his skin just underneath.  Victor’s eyes sparkled more brilliantly than the sapphires in his ears, the sunburn across his nose like a permanent blush.  Yuuri swallowed and felt like every breath was an inhale that he forgot to let out.

_Victor Nikiforov, the King of Gold, is sitting on my bedroom floor.  He’s left his ships and his crew, and he climbed up the pipe on my house to come see me._

“That’s…” Yuuri exhaled.  “I mean….”  He worked up a small smile.  “Isn’t it obvious?”

Impossibly, Victor’s smile grew bigger.  “Yuuri,” he said, speaking his name so delicately.  “Can I kiss you?”

Yuuri’s heart stopped in the most exhilarating way.  There was no trace of fear or panic as he nodded his head.  It was what he wanted, and he was done denying it.

Victor leaned towards him, and everything about him multiplied tenfold.  His aroma was stronger, his body more solid, the clink of his earrings a choir of bells.  His lips met Yuuri’s lips, pressing so gently, and Yuuri melted.  He’d never known what it was like to have a part of his body so close to another’s like this.  Small details that he’d never noticed came into focus until they were all he could think about.  Like the barely perceptible stubble on his chin, the soft scrape of his fingernails as the hand on Yuuri’s shoulder tightened its grip, the overgrown length of his bangs as they tickled Yuuri’s forehead.  Yuuri found himself leaning into him, wanting more even though he didn’t know what more there could even be.  Victor’s mouth moved like that of a man who knew every type of kiss, and he had expertly picked out the one that Yuuri needed, the one he could handle, and given it to him like a precious gift.

Yuuri’s heart had steadied into a quick, but not unpleasant beat.  Victor pulled away, and it was like seeing a whole new person.  Not the elusive mystery that he had so often been, but just a man, another human with whom Yuuri had shared something both ordinary and spectacular.  For that instant, they had been exactly the same.

Yuuri smiled and broke into giggles.  Victor laughed softly and touched the side of Yuuri’s face with his free hand.  “What would your mother say if she knew you were kissing pirates in your room, Yuuri?” he asked.

“She’d probably be glad I went out of my comfort zone for once,” Yuuri replied between giggles, leaning forward to press his forehead against Victor’s.  He laid his hand over Victor’s where it pressed into his cheek, feeling the cool gemstones and gold adorning Victor’s fingers.  He wondered why in the world he had waited this long.  Nothing had felt more perfect, or more right, or more certainly like something that he truly wanted.

“Yuuri?” Victor asked, and his breath ghosted across Yuuri’s lips, sweet and familiar and the same as the aftertaste in Yuuri’s mouth.

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Yuuri laughed.  “I guess?  Sure.”

Victor kissed him again—just that thought, that _Victor kissed him again_ , sent Yuuri’s head spinning—and Yuuri loved it twice as much as the first.  He knew that every time, it would only get better, multiplying until it transcended all words and all understanding.

“I could get used to this,” Victor hummed, just barely pulling his lips away.  The hand on Yuuri’s cheek moved up slowly into his hair; Victor lightly ran his fingers through it, each stroke sending a wave of shivers through Yuuri’s body.  Victor gave him another light kiss.  “You’re going to have to stop me.”

Vicchan barked, a quick, sharp _yap_ , startling them both.  Yuuri realized now that the puppy had wriggled his way out of his lap and was staring at them, ears up and wary.

“I guess I should have asked permission first,” Victor laughed.  He pulled away from Yuuri and extended his hand out to Vicchan, who sniffed it with extra attention.  “Sorry, Vicchan, I don’t mean to steal your human away without getting your blessing first.”

Vicchan licked his palm and then leapt into Victor’s lap, all transgressions forgiven.  Victor scratched his neck and peered out of the corner of his eye at Yuuri.  When he saw that Yuuri was staring, his face turned a deep red.

“Hey…Victor,” Yuuri said shyly.  “About what we were talking about…before….”

“Yes?”

“I want to help you.  If you’re going to stay here, then there has to be something I can do to make sure you’re okay.”  He paused, averting his gaze to the floor.  “I know that you’re not worried, and I know that I’m no good at lying to anybody, least of Minako, but still.  Tell me how to help you.”

Victor considered it, glancing up at the ceiling with pensive eyes.  Eventually, he grinned and looked back to Yuuri.  “I think I may have some ideas.  But are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.  Just let me help you, Victor.”  Yuuri said this with perhaps a bit more firmness than intended, but he wasn’t about to let Victor bear all the risk for their arrangement.  Yuuri owed it to him, now more than ever before.  Things were different now.  Yuuri would make sure that this stayed.

“All right, all right.”  Victor held Vicchan’s ears in his hands and flapped them up and down.  “As you wish, Yuuri.  But I warn you, I’m very demanding.  And very picky.”

“Really?  I hadn’t noticed.”

Victor snorted.  He reached over and playfully shoved Yuuri’s shoulder.  Vicchan, ever the capricious puppy, leapt out of Victor’s lap and into Yuuri’s.

“I should probably head out,” Victor said, though there was a poorly concealed tinge of sadness in the words.  “Makkachin will get worried if I take too long.  Or she’ll start chewing up my hat.”

Victor moved to stand up, but Yuuri reached for his wrist, grasping it gently.  “Wait….”

Brilliant blue eyes blinked at him.  Yuuri allowed himself a small, nervous smile.  “…Stay a little longer?”  He paused.  “Please?”

The look on Victor’s face could only be described as relief.  He sat back down, closer to Yuuri this time, and put his arm back around Yuuri’s shoulders.  Yuuri, with only a little trepidation, wrapped his arms around Victor’s stomach, loving the solid, steady feel of him, and laid his head against his chest.  Victor’s pectoral muscle flexed against his cheek, and Yuuri blushed and buried himself deeper into him.  He closed his eyes and let everything that was Victor surround him.

 

Christophe had known Victor long enough that almost none of his behavior was surprising anymore.  In fact, Christophe was actually _more_ worried if Victor appeared to be acting rationally for once.  The man was impulsive, hyper-focusing on one thing before jumping off to the next, and if he had even the slightest interest in something, he threw himself after it wholeheartedly.  It wasn’t a bad set of traits for a pirate.  Much of Victor’s success could be attributed to these things manifesting themselves as fierce competitiveness, and the men and women that flocked to their crew were excited at the prospect of trying to keep up with him.  Victor cut through the murk and the chaos of the northern seas, chasing nothing but the treasure he sought and ignoring all else.

Victor was like that with everything.  It was why he’d never once managed to form lasting relationships, and he had told Christophe more than once that their friendship was the first he’d had that had lasted longer than a year.  Anything involving romance was out of the question.  Victor got his fill of the flesh like the rest of them did, but Christophe wasn’t sure that Victor could have maintained a healthy relationship for anything.

It wasn’t for lack of trying.  Victor got it in his head every so often that he was going to finally settle down, leave the fleet to Christophe or disband it altogether, and get himself a wife or husband or whatever the hell his fancy was that month.  It never lasted.  The life of a pirate was a demanding one.  Not everybody could keep up even if Victor had been serious.

To fill the void, Victor had climbed into Christophe’s bed years ago.  Christophe didn’t mind.  Victor was an attractive man, and neither of them had any delusions about what it was.  It helped them both be less lonely, when their loneliness was in places that the other could never reach.

Christophe had tried for years to put his fiancé out of his mind.  The man wasn’t a pirate, he wasn’t even a sailor; he was a dancer, with as much passion for his art as Christophe had for the sea.  He’d waited, so many times, and for so many broken promises.  In the end, Christophe didn’t begrudge him his decision.  But it still hurt to look at his hand and see the engagement ring that Masumi had given back to him, telling him to bring it back to him when he intended for it to be serious.

With Victor in his arms, the pain hurt just a little bit less.  Christophe didn’t know what sort of pain Victor was trying to fuck away with him, but he hoped that it helped, even if just for a night.

When the letter came, Christophe didn’t give it much thought.  But the more he read, the more it seemed different in a way he couldn’t quite place.

_Christophe – I have asked you for many things during our long friendship, and I hope you will suffer one final request.  It is a request I have made many times before, but this time I mean it.  I fully transfer the title of captain to you, and ask that you do with the crew what you see fit.  I am retiring, and I don’t wish to disclose my location since I know you will just come looking for me.  I have met somebody new:  he is the most beautiful artist I have ever met.  I can’t put into enough words what I feel about him; suffice it to say I feel as though I have been brought back to life.  I don’t want to give up the feeling of being with him, and so I refuse._

_I know what you are thinking, that I have said all this before, and I won’t deny that.  But Christophe, this man is truly different.  He did not know who I was when we met, and even though he would have been in his rights to reject me once my deceit was uncovered, he instead chose to stay with me.  Who else would ever be so full of gentleness towards a pirate?_

_I know you will understand.  May our paths cross again one day on calmer waters, my friend._

Victor had signed the letter with his usual V in overly fancy calligraphy, beside which was a small drawing of Victor’s smiling face and Makkachin.

Christophe sighed slowly through his nostrils.  He had to admit, it was rather surprising that Victor’s new friend had reacted in such a way.  All of Victor’s other “new friends” had at least known who Victor was when they had first met.  Which meant that Victor had gone somewhere south, where their fleet was known, but not by sight.  There weren’t many villages down that way.  It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out which one Victor had gone to.

Really, that had just been sloppy of him.  If Victor had really wanted to remain hidden, he wouldn’t have let something like that slip.  Christophe folded the letter up and tucked it into his coat pocket.  He figured he would give it another week or so, then he’d send out a search party for Victor’s lovesick ass.  In the meantime, he may as well let Mila and Georgi know.

 

Yuuri awoke the next morning in his own bed.  Vicchan was curled up beside him, sleeping soundly with soft dog snores.  He sat up, stretched, and stared at his open window.  Slowly, as sleep left him, the memory of last night took its place, and Yuuri smiled.  He didn’t remember Victor leaving, but it was clear that Yuuri had fallen asleep as they’d sat together on the floor.  It was a little embarrassing to think of Victor lifting him up and setting him into bed, but it wasn’t a strong enough feeling to replace the sheer happiness that Yuuri felt.

He reached up and touched his lips with his fingers.  He could still conjure up the sensation of Victor’s mouth, his breath, the warmth of another person’s body against his own.  It was almost too much to believe.  Yuuri had no idea that the simple act of kissing could conjure such a flood of euphoria.  All he could think about was when he would get to see Victor again, a thought that had consumed him for many days, but this time, the excitement came from a deeper place.

This was something that nobody would be able to erase.  Not Minako, not Minami’s gun, not the navy.  Not even Victor’s own pirate crew.  It had been _theirs_ , his and Victor’s both, small and new and bursting with potential for life.

Yuuri’s glasses were over on his work table.  He eased out of bed, waking Vicchan despite his efforts, and went to retrieve them.  As he set them on his face, the blurs of his room realigned into a clear, smooth array of colors.

 

Today they were taking down the display dresses in the front room so they could be washed and setting up fresh ones in their place.  Over time, the beautiful silks and lace and velvet had acquired a natural layer of dust, as well as a touch of bleaching from the windows.  Minako tried to keep the dresses away from sunlight as best she could, but short of cloaking the entire shop in darkness, it was an unavoidable side effect.  The really bad ones were broken back down into their paneling and used as scrap fabric.  The passable ones were sold at discounted prices.  Most, however, could simply be cleaned and packed up until they came back around in the rotation.

If Minako caught on to Yuuri’s change in mood, she gave no sign.  His mind couldn’t help but wander back towards the memory of Victor’s kiss, and the very real possibility that he may get to do it again very soon.  Yuuri bit back the spontaneous smiles and giggles as best he could.  He felt just a little silly that he was behaving like a school-aged child who had just had their first kiss, but then again, Yuuri was a twenty-three-year-old man who had just had his first kiss.  So it was all fair in the end, really.

He debated letting Victor know that that had indeed been his first kiss.  Yuuri was not _that_ naïve, and he had no delusions about the fact that Victor surely had had his share of partners in the past.  That was inconsequential at best, but he wasn’t sure he wanted Victor to know the extent of Yuuri’s own inexperience.  It wasn’t a point of shame; pretty much everybody in Hasetsu knew that the Katsuki siblings showed no signs of getting married anytime soon.  But what if Victor lost interest in him because of it?  What if Victor thought Yuuri expected him to teach him everything, and it was too much of a hassle?  Yuuri would rather not deal with that just yet.

“Okay,” Minako sighed, standing up straight with a painful creak of her knees.  Her russet brown hair, pulled up into a bun, was falling out of its confines lock by lock.  “I think that’ll do it for now.”  She reached down and smoothed out the skirt of the light pink dress they’d arranged on the display form.  “What do you think, Yuuri?”

“Looks nice,” he answered earnestly.  His face felt hot and flushed from the exertion of moving so many dresses back and forth.  Despite appearances, his job could be pointedly physical at times.

“I should go run these over to the cleaner’s,” Minako said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.  “If I get them there quickly enough he’ll get started on them today.”

“Do you want me to take them?”  Yuuri never thought of Minako as old, but in actuality she was older than his mother, and her seamstress joints often made themselves known at the most inopportune of times.

“No, no, I’m fine, Yuuri.”  Minako smiled at him as she took down her hair and reformed the bun.  “Just watch the shop for a few minutes.  I won’t be long.”

She picked up the bag of dresses they’d compiled and headed out, the soft jingle of the door bell resonating in the heavy silence she left behind.

Yuuri sat down behind the front counter with a heavy sigh of relief.  He stretched his arms up and rolled his shoulders back; his body responded with a symphony of pops and cracks.  _Maybe I’m getting those seamstress joints too_ , he thought with a wince.

For a good while, the shop was quiet.  Yuuri sat and rested his muscles, daydreaming unabashedly about Victor.  He wondered what Victor was doing now, and if he was thinking about Yuuri too.  Would he come by again tonight?  Should Yuuri chance going over to his place, now that Minako was onto him?  No, it was too risky so soon.  He’d have to be on his best behavior for a while until she eased up.  Yuuri would have to talk to Victor about how they were going to communicate, now that meeting in broad daylight was no longer an option.

He sat there turning it over in his mind so intently that he barely heard the bell ring.  The front door swung open, and Yuuri looked up.

“Excuse me?” asked the customer who walked in.  “Is this Minako Okukawa’s shop?”

_Why does nobody ever read the sign?_   “It is,” Yuuri replied with his cheeriest tone.  “How can I help you?”

“Oh, good!”  The man strode up to the counter, and Yuuri could tell right away that he was both foreign and very, very rich.  There was a different air about him than Victor had; it wasn’t likely that this was yet another pirate.  For instance, there wasn’t a trace of sun on the man’s pale skin, he was a good deal slighter than Victor’s sailor body, and his wealth was obvious in a much more subtle fashion.  The man was not dripping in jewels, but his clothes were obviously, even to an untrained eye, made of the richest and most expensive cloth.

“Is she around?” he asked, excited brown eyes darting around the shop, taking in the brand new colors of the fresh dresses.

“No, but she should be back any second.  She went to run a quick errand.”

“Very well.  May I wait here for her?”

“Please, feel free.”

The stranger smiled.  “Thank you.  Tell me, young man, what is your name?”  He regarded Yuuri curiously, as if he’d seen him somewhere before and was trying to place it.

“Yuuri.”

The man’s whole demeanor changed.  His eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across his face.  “Yuuri!” he exclaimed, both hands shooting out to grab Yuuri’s own and rattle it in an assertive handshake.

“Uh….”  This had been the last reaction Yuuri was expecting.  He could barely form the words to declare that whoever this man thought he was, he was mistaken.

The stranger leaned in close, his eyes sparkling with glee.  “You’re the one who made my niece’s wedding dress!” he said.  “I’ve come to commission a dress from you for my daughter.”

The words settled into Yuuri’s brain.  “Oh…oh, right!” he replied.  “Minako told me she was expecting a client.  You’re here to commission her.”

The man laughed and shook his head.  “No, no, I’m here to commission _you_ , Yuuri!”

A pause.  “I…excuse me?”

“I want _you_ to make my daughter’s dress!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEY'VE DONE IT.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments below, and as always come visit me at my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, thank you SO much for your patience through this impromptu hiatus. I had a stress breakdown last month that was giving me constant tension headaches, but I've gotten through the worst of it. This chapter is the longest one yet, so I hope it satisfies your cravings <3 I'll try not to have such a long hiatus between chapters again, last month was just a neverending assault of mental illness.
> 
> I love you all! The boys are happy to be back, so please enjoy =)

_“Dear my love, haven't you wanted to be with me?_   
_And dear my love, haven't you longed to be free?_   
_I can't keep pretending that I don't even know you_   
_And at sweet night, you are my own”_

_\- “Anywhere”_

“Wh-what?” was all Yuuri said, after too long of a time trying to understand exactly what the stranger had said, mouth open and eyes staring.  “I don’t understand.  Minako is the one who made your niece’s wedding dress.”

“Oh, I know!” the man said with a bright white grin.  “I’m a great fan of her work.  When I heard that she made my niece’s wedding gown, you can imagine my excitement.  I had no idea she was still designing!”

Yuuri could only nod, not following the man in the slightest, falling behind with each word he spoke.

“It was so beautiful to see up close, I couldn’t take my eyes off it all day.”  The man released his hold on Yuuri’s hand, gleefully recalling the memory with a childlike expression.  “Since I was in town, I knew that I had to come meet Minako myself and tell her how much I adore the things she’s made.”

Yuuri allowed himself a small smile.  “That probably meant a lot to her.  There’s not a lot of people here that know her from before she came back to Hasetsu.”

“Her work used to be the most renowned in the whole city where I grew up,” the man gushed with pride.  “I was young, but I knew beauty when I saw it.  Sometimes I would sneak into my mother’s closet just to look at her Okukawa gown.  It was exquisite, a lovely dark green, so dark it looked black until the light caught it.”

“Really?”  Yuuri’s smile became genuine.  “I came here all the time as a kid too.  I never did much except walk around the shop and look at all her dresses.  She’d let me, because I was quiet and I never touched anything.”

“Yes, yes, I heard!  I was so excited when I heard that Minako had taken on a protégé!”

“Oh, well…I don’t know about that.”  Yuuri averted his eyes.  “I just help out around here.”

“That’s not what Minako told me about you.”  The man laughed, though it was not unkind.  “She told me you had more talent and potential than anybody she knew, and you’re such a hard worker that she has to force you to stop sometimes.”

“…Did she really?”  Yuuri felt color rising to his face.  He could barely look at the stranger, who was looking at him like he was some type of genius figure.  Yuuri almost felt as though he was being made fun of, as if at any moment the man would burst out laughing and admit that Minako had said no such thing.

“She did!”  The man nodded vigorously.  “And that’s when I knew:  if Minako is passing her art along to somebody new, somebody young with a fresh vision, then _that’s_ what I want for my daughter.  Not that I wouldn’t be honored to own one of Minako’s gowns after all these years, but I’m a forward-thinking man.  I’m willing to give you a chance, to see how Minako’s talent translates through different hands and new eyes, and my daughter will be the only girl in the city with your design.”

It all seemed a bit too much to take in.  Why would somebody come all the way here looking for _him_ , of all people, when Yuuri had never made a single thing of his own, when the man didn’t even know for himself what Yuuri was or wasn’t capable of?

As Yuuri stood gaping for the second time, Minako walked back into the shop, the bell jingling softly in her wake.  Yuuri barely heard their greetings, too lost in his own thoughts to pay attention.

The man, Hisashi Morita, appeared to have been telling the truth from the way Minako spoke with him afterward.  Yuuri could only stand there behind the counter, wincing uncomfortably as Minako shilled him to this stranger, who blindly agreed with her every word.  Minako didn’t seem surprised in the least that Morita was here for Yuuri and not her; Yuuri wondered if she had kept that from him deliberately as some sort of weird surprise.  If so, he wished that she hadn’t.  He wasn’t ready for this type of attention, nor was he sure that he even liked it.

“My daughter’s resting back at the house now,” Morita said cheerily.  “We’re staying with my sister, who I’m sure you know.”

“…Yes, of course.”  Minako’s voice was tight, and Yuuri could practically see the flames in her eyes as she recalled the memory of that nasty, particular mother of the bride.

“The journey made her rather tired…we had just barely gotten home only to turn around and come right back!  I wasn’t sure how long the commission would take, and we hadn’t packed for an extended stay.  Tomorrow I’ll bring her by and we can start talking about the details, how does that sound, Yuuri?”

Yuuri nodded.  “That sounds just fine.  I’ll be happy to meet her.”

“She’s a little shy, but very sweet.  You’ll love her, I’m sure.”

 

That night, Yuuri put the finishing touches on Victor’s vest.  He held it up to the moonlight coming in through his window, and was ecstatic to see that it matched the one in Victor’s drawing perfectly.  Although it had only taken him a few days to actually make, it felt like a lifetime ago that Victor had commissioned him.  In a strange way, it was bittersweet:  giving it to Victor would be momentous, but what reason would Victor have to stick around after?

Yuuri had tried to ignore the thought, tried to stuff it away in a small, dark corner of his mind.  Each time he avoided it, the inkling grew bigger and bigger until he could no longer pretend.  It was entirely possible that Victor had only stayed this long to get his vest, after which he would make his excuses and leave without a trace.  The idea made him sick, and he fought back against it as best he could, but he was long accustomed to losing those battles.

Victor’s behavior in the following days would put it all to rest one way or the other.

Yuuri laid the vest down on his worktable and looked out the window.  He dared to peek over the windowsill into the street, but it was empty, dark, and silent.  Vicchan slept noisily on the bed, tired out from watching the window the same way Yuuri was doing now.

_If Victor does decide to leave, he’ll have a lot of explaining to do to Makkachin,_ Yuuri thought as he watched his puppy sleep.

He glanced back over at the dress form in the corner.  He still hadn’t touched it since that day, nor had he removed or thrown away or even decided what to do with the bodice piece that remained intact.  He’d been hoping to work on it with the money Victor would pay him, but with a new commission coming up—and one with more pressure than he’d ever faced before—his own dress would have to wait a while longer.

_My own dress…._   Yuuri took a wary step forward, like this was a dream he’d disrupt by moving too quickly, and laid his hand across the sequined neckline of the dress.  His fingers still ached with the remembrance of pain when he saw those hundreds of tiny silver plates, handstitched over countless nights.  He traced the seams of the darts with his fingertips, a swell of pride hitting him at how clean he had gotten them to look.  The skirt…he had made the skirt look flawless too.

Yuuri let his hand fall away and he stood there, sighing and staring as the nagging sense of failure and frustration filled him up from his core.  He wanted to finish this dress.  He wanted it more than anything.

He walked over to his dresser and opened the bottom drawer.  Kneeling on the hard wooden floor of his room, he pulled out almost every piece of clothing within until he reached what he was searching for:  the cotton and muslin mockup he’d made before making the silk dress for real.  Some of this material he’d bought, some was scrap Minako had let him take, but minus the sequins, it was exactly the same.

Yuuri stood up and unfolded it, going over to draw the curtains over his window as he did.  He laid the dress across his bed, not disturbing Vicchan, and, taking a breath, began to undress.

He removed his clothes with his back to the mirror.  His feelings about his body were no greater than mild embarrassment whenever somebody called attention to his chubbiness, and usually, the sight of himself naked was not necessarily distressing.  Yet for some reason, whenever he did this, it helped to wait until he was finished to look at his reflection.  He was never sure why.  Maybe it helped the illusion feel more real.

The muslin dress had taken on a bit of woody aroma from being stuffed in the bottom of the drawer, but it still fit perfectly.  Yuuri put his arms through the sleeve holes and hoisted the bodice up to his chest.  Still plenty of room for his stomach, too.  Reaching behind his back, he pulled the small corset strings with practiced ease.  It never got as tight as it would have with somebody else helping him, but Yuuri would never allow anybody else into this ritual.

Once it was in place, he turned around and looked at himself in the mirror.  Almost instantly, just like every time, peace and relief flooded into Yuuri’s brain at the feel and the sight.  Even as just a mockup, the dress was beautiful, and it made him beautiful too.  He took hold of the skirt in both hands and spun in a little circle, grinning like a child at the way the fabric billowed out around him.  He moved closer to the mirror and smiled, examining himself from all angles, spinning the skirt, running his palms down the curves of his torso.

The real thing, with the silk and the sequins, would be amazing.  He couldn’t wait to see how the silk would feel against his entire body, how the sequins would shine in the dim light of his room, and how light and elegant the skirt would drape around him.

_What would Victor say if he saw you like this?_

The thought came unbidden, from nowhere, huge and striking and full of darkest malice.  Yuuri seized up, saw himself in the mirror, and his whole face, down to his neck, his shoulders, his chest, all blazed with the brightest red shame.

_What would Victor think of this?  Leaving behind his gold and his fortune for an ugly failure who wears moth eaten dresses in his room?_

Yuuri spun around, away from his reflection, his fingers working frantically at the corset strings at his back.  He almost tore them as he yanked them loose, and he shoved the dress off his body like it was on fire.  Once it was off, he grabbed it, balled it up, and shoved it deep into the drawer.  Sweating with humiliation, he pulled on his nightshirt, swallowing hard to fight back the panic.

_He can’t know.  He can’t know.  He can never know._   Yuuri’s hands began to shake, and he crawled underneath his blanket, terrified that somehow, Victor already knew everything.

 

The consultation with Morita’s daughter went well.  Her name was Satsuki, with straight black hair and curious green eyes that darted all around the dress shop as soon as she entered its doors.  She was a small, shy girl, but undoubtedly excited for her gown.

Yuuri had spoken with enough clients her age to know how to proceed.  If he asked her endless questions, she would become overwhelmed and shut down.  But if he didn’t guide her in at least some way, she might bombard him with every desire in her head.  Usually, for the first day, Yuuri focused on something small, like color.  The first thing he noticed about Satsuki was her eyes, so vibrantly green, but muted by the dark colors of the outfit she was wearing.  He asked her to list all her favorite colors, in no particular order, and waited for her to land on one that would work for what he had in mind.

Once she opened up, Yuuri fell into a seamless rhythm with her, drawing out her thoughts, her desires, her likes and dislikes about the dresses she already owned.  Satsuki liked ribbons, he discovered.  Ribbons and bows.  She liked white, green, pink, and gold.  All colors that Yuuri knew he could work with.  She didn’t like for her dresses to be so long that she had to lift the skirt just to walk.  She didn’t like her arms, so long sleeves were her preference.

Yuuri took meticulous notes of everything she said.  Morita was wandering about the dress shop, inspecting each of Minako’s dresses in great detail, and asking her every question he could think of about what had gone into each particular design.  Minako was more than happy to indulge him, chatting away animatedly in between customers, occasionally stealing a glance in Yuuri’s direction when she thought he wasn’t looking.  Both of them had done well in leaving Yuuri and Satsuki be.  They’d shown a great deal of restraint in their clearly obvious desire to eavesdrop.

They were finished in a little over an hour.  Already, Yuuri could see the shadow of the dress in his mind.  He could envision it as pieces, and the real work would be fitting them together, discarding and adding elements as they appeared to him.  A flutter of excitement bubbled up inside him.

Morita insisted on treating them both to lunch, which Minako respectfully declined on account of the fact that she couldn’t leave the shop unattended.  Secretly, Yuuri was grateful for it.  He wanted to start sketching ideas right away, while it was still fresh.  Morita, although disappointed, understood; he promised that another time, he would buy them dinner.  Satsuki waved goodbye to Yuuri with a shy, though excited smile on her face.

Minako rounded on Yuuri with a huge smile as soon as Morita and his daughter left.  “Yuuri, you did great!” she squealed.  She flung her arms around him and squeezed him in a tight hug.  “You are so good with children, Yuuri, you are so sweet and she was so excited and you’re going to make something _amazing_ for her, I just know it!”

Yuuri wriggled away, though her infectious joy pulled forth a soft giggle from him.  “It’s just the same consultation I’ve always done, Minako.”

“And you are excellent at them,” she replied with a grin and a wink.

He smiled back, covering his blush with his notebook.  “I should go get started on all this then.”

It was all he could do to keep from actually running back to the workroom, where he spread his notes out on the table, opened his sketchbook, and went to work.

 

Yuuri let his mind run wild.  He’d never been given so much freedom before, unfettered by things like money, time, materials, or anything else that might get in his way.  Morita had already told Minako that he would pay any price that the dress ended up being, and to prove it, he’d given her a sizable down payment.  Yuuri was giddy thinking of how he could have his pick of any fabric, any yardage, any _anything_ to make this come to life.

He’d sketched ideas all day at work, ran home for a quick dinner, and was back in his room now, sketching more.  It wasn’t often that he was struck with such fervent inspiration like this, so he needed to take advantage of every last second before the inevitable self-doubt set in.  He knew that it would come in time, but for now, all he had to do was dump his brain onto as many pages as could hold it.

So deeply was he focused that he almost didn’t hear Vicchan’s barking.  Yuuri jolted in his chair, looked over his shoulder to shush him, then the realization came.

“Victor,” Yuuri breathed out with a smile.  He leapt up from his chair and leaned out his window.  The sight of Victor’s face staring up at him from the street was enough to send him careening into near-ecstasy.

“Victor!” he called, waving down at him.

“Yuuriiii,” Victor called back. “What’s got you so excited?”

“Come up here, I want to show you something!”

If Victor could have flown up to the window, he would have done it in that moment.  Yuuri watched with a wary and enthralled eye as Victor climbed up the pipe.  It occurred to Yuuri that the pipe would weaken in time if Victor kept using it.  Yuuri would have to look into getting a ladder to keep in the yard.

Victor tumbled into his bedroom, the scent of perfume and the sea coming in with him.  He was dressed plainly tonight, only the white cotton shirt—still flawless and bright despite all this time—and the black leather pants.  Yuuri liked it when Victor went without his coat.  Not that the loud gaudy thing offended him in any way—he was in fact quite taken with it—but it drew too much attention away from Victor himself.  Without it, it was like stripping away everything but the purity.

Once inside, Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri and nuzzled deep into him.  Yuuri felt no tension, no stress, no shame; this belonged to him.  It belonged to them both.

“I missed you today,” Victor mumbled, running his hands down Yuuri’s back slow enough to make him shiver.

“I was busy.  I’m sorry.”

Victor pulled away, and he was smiling.  He lifted a hand to Yuuri’s cheek, gently grazing his thumb over the skin.  For a moment he said nothing, only looked at Yuuri like there was nothing else in the world worth looking at.  In time, his smile became a toothy grin and he took Yuuri’s face in between both hands and leaned in close, pressing a soft, lengthy kiss to Yuuri’s lips.

Yuuri held back the giggle for as long as he could.  As the laugh burst free from his lips onto Victor’s lips, Victor pulled back again, still smiling.

“Sorry,” Yuuri said again, averting his eyes.

“No need.  I’ve been dying to kiss you all day.”

Yuuri looked up again and took hold of Victor’s wrists, gently moving them off his face.  “I finally finished your vest,” he said.

“You did?”  Victor’s entire face lit up even brighter.  “Can I see it?”

“Of course you can see it, it’s yours.”

Yuuri lifted the vest from its spot on his table and presented it to Victor, averting his eyes again.  In this final moment, he was still hounded by the nagging fear that Victor would hate it.  The fear barely had time to take root, however; Victor gasped and took the vest with a gleeful smile to rival a bride on her wedding day.

“It’s just like I imagined!” he exclaimed, holding it at arm’s length and admiring it from all angles.

Yuuri had sewn the vest with golden thread, and the large buttons down the front were the shiniest bronze he could find in the whole town.  He’d done a few lines of embroidery in gold along the bottom hem and surrounding the keyhole style buttonholes.  There was nothing exceptionally complicated about the design, but Yuuri hoped that he’d put enough precision into the details to be worthy of being added to the King of Gold’s wardrobe.

Victor peered at the seam surrounding the neckline, then back up at Yuuri.  “Did you sew this too?”  He pointed at the small embroidered bird shining on the dark blue cotton, in exactly the same spot as it was on the velvet coat.

Yuuri grinned and nodded.  “I was hoping you’d notice…it was just a little impulse.”

Victor let his fond gaze fall back on the bird, which he touched softly with his fingertips.  “Most people never even notice the one on my coat.  I’m surprised you did.”

“Well, put it on already!”  Yuuri shoved Victor’s shoulder playfully.

Victor put the vest on over his white shirt, and Yuuri felt that familiar swell of pride:  it fit him perfectly.  The length, the curves, the arm holes, the neckline, it was all exquisite.  Yuuri grinned wide as Victor went over to Yuuri’s mirror and admired himself like a preening bird.  The golden threads glowed like sparks in the lamplight, pieces of flickering flame all across Victor’s body.  The tails that Victor had so dearly wanted hung down behind his hips and swished back and forth as Victor struck a pose in front of the mirror.  He was the picture of utter glee.

“What do you think, Yuuri?” Victor asked, turning to him and putting one hand on his hip.  He placed his braid in front and gave Yuuri a wink for effect.

Yuuri laughed.  “The most dashing pirate in all the seven seas.”

“The absolute most dashing,” Victor agreed.  “Imagine the fear when ships see such a well-dressed man come to take all of their treasure.”

“People are afraid of you?” Yuuri teased, raising an eyebrow.  “I’m not sure I quite believe it.”

“Terrified!” Victor insisted.  “Just one look into my eyes and even the most hardened sailor would beg for mercy.  I’ve been told I have a stare of solid ice, devoid of all emotion, completely unbreakable.”

As if in response, Vicchan chose that exact moment to yawn from his spot on the bed.  Victor shot a look of pure affront in Vicchan’s direction.

“Ah, I’m swooning,” said Yuuri, placing the back of his hand on his forehead.

Victor smirked, took a step forward, and hooked an arm around Yuuri’s waist.  He pulled Yuuri’s body flush against his, looking deep into his eyes with a steady, coy expression.  Yuuri stared back at him, biting his tongue to keep from laughing, though it was a losing game.

“I’ve killed men for less shows of disrespect,” Victor purred.

“Have you now?”

“Yes.  Thrown them right into the sea.  Or I made them give Makkachin a bath.  Depends on how badly they insulted me.”  Victor pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s, slowly dipping him down towards the floor.

“Yeah?” Yuuri asked, still struggling against his giggles.  “What a cruel man you are, Captain Nikiforov.”

Victor blinked, momentarily caught off guard.  He recovered with a soft laugh, but there was no hiding the sudden pink in his cheeks.  “You’ve saved yourself this time,” he said, standing Yuuri back up straight.  “I’m no match for your wily tongue.”

Yuuri let the laughter break free as Victor took his hand and kissed it.  “I’m glad you like the vest,” he said.

“I _love_ it!  I’m never taking it off for as long as I live.  In fact, I want more.  One in every color.”

“If you’re paying, then sure.”

“Ah yes, speaking of payment….”  Victor pulled out his wallet and began to count out coins.  “I can’t remember how much we agreed on, so let’s just say…this much, and say that any extra is a tip.”

Yuuri’s stomach did a million flips as Victor placed five gold coins in his hand.  It hardly seemed real that he’d actually earned so much on his own.  He felt like he ought to have felt guilty for receiving such a large sum, but there was no shame.  The money was rightfully his.  He’d delivered his end of the agreement, and now…now, this would help his parents immeasurably.

If he kept just a little for himself to buy another cut of silk, there was nothing wrong with that, was there?

Victor sat down on Yuuri’s bed—pushing the tails out from underneath him first—and coaxed a sleepy Vicchan into his lap.  Yuuri put the money away in the top drawer of his dresser, in the little wooden box that held his savings.  As he set the coins in with the respectable pile he had already, he glanced over at his dress form and a shiver of excitement ran up his spine.

 

The weeks that followed were calm, easy, and full of possibilities.  Morita and his daughter were regular visitors at the dress shop, even when there was nothing needed from either of them that day.  Satsuki sometimes asked to sit and watch Yuuri work, and he found that strangely, he didn’t mind it.  She was mostly silent, and she never touched anything.  Besides, having her there meant that he could ask her the occasional odd question as soon as it popped into his mind.

Morita brought them lunch sometimes, and continued to ask them over for dinner.  Minako had taken him up on his offer once before, but Yuuri had declined each time.  After work was when he saw Victor.

Victor and Yuuri had worked out a routine.  Yuuri would go visit him straight after work, taking a roundabout path to not alert suspicion from Minako or anybody else that might notice his movements.  Over time, Victor had turned the little shack by the lighthouse into a respectable living space.  Although he’d told Yuuri that none of his new furniture was stolen, Yuuri knew better.  He brought Victor food when he could, supplies when they were needed, and a gift or two when it occurred to him.

Most days, Yuuri couldn’t stay for long.  Only long enough to drop off anything that Victor had asked for—or forgotten to ask for, and Yuuri thought of—and to steal as many kisses from one another as possible.  If Yuuri could stay longer, they climbed the hill to the lighthouse and sat in the grass side by side, watching the distant sails on the horizon.  Sometimes, Victor would draw, or paint, or just describe the colors of the sea and the sunset with the voice and tongue of a poet.

Yuuri never had much to talk about.  All he ever had to say was about work, and after a few days, he’d already told Victor everything there was to tell about Satsuki, Morita, and the dress.  Mostly, Yuuri came up with ways to keep Victor talking, just to hear his voice for as long as he could.  Victor’s command of Yuuri’s language was impressive, though there were still words he forgot, or used incorrectly, or pronounced in such a mangled way that Yuuri had no idea what he even meant.  Whenever Victor stumbled, he just kept going, even when Yuuri laughed.  Every word, every sound, everything rang beautiful and clear coming out of Victor’s mouth.

Victor came to Yuuri’s room only one time after receiving his vest.  Finding a safe time to come by was harder than Yuuri expected, even with his every move being watched by Minako.  She and Yuuri’s mother were old friends from their school days, and they still spoke regularly.  Yuuri fully expected that Minako had told his mother everything, though whether she believed it or not was a different story.  Regardless, Yuuri wouldn’t risk anybody, not even Yuuko’s infant daughters, seeing him and Victor together anywhere.

Tonight, however, Yuuri was able to sneak him in once more.  He’d told him the hour that the restaurant was usually at its busiest—all the less likely that anybody in the house would notice the noise from his room—and said that it was probably best to leave Makkachin behind this time.

Yuuri sat at his work table, glancing towards the window every few minutes in squirming anticipation.  His pencil hovered uselessly over the half-finished sketch in his notebook.  The clothier hadn’t gotten any new shipments of blue silk in since the last one, so in the meantime Yuuri had been poking at the original design for his dress.  He was convinced that there was something he could change to make it better, and maybe by the time he could finally get more material, he’d have an even better way to finish it.

Right on time, a tap came at his window.  Victor’s face materialized on the other side of the glass, waving and smiling.  Yuuri jumped up and opened the window with all haste.

“How long do you think I could have hung there?” Victor asked, taking Yuuri’s hand.

“As long as I left you there,” Yuuri teased as he helped him inside.  Vicchan was down in the backyard, so there was only the two of them in the small room.  The faint, faraway sounds of the restaurant filtered up through the floorboards.

“You don’t know how hard it is for me to stay away from here, Yuuri,” Victor sighed, flopping down onto Yuuri’s bed like he owned it.  “Yuuri is here, Yuuri’s mother’s cooking is here…it’s cruel!”

“Well,” Yuuri replied with a faint laugh.  “What if I told you that you could have both right now?”

Victor’s head popped up, eyes wide.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean….”  Yuuri picked up the tray that he’d been saving on his table and brought it over to the bed.  On it was a single large bowl, covered by a red lid.  “I told my mom I was going to be working in my room tonight, so…well, this is for you.”  He removed the lid and watched Victor’s face and eyes light up.

“Yuuri, this looks amazing!” Victor exclaimed, his eyes shining like stars.

“My mom made it,” Yuuri said, blushing with pride.  “It’s called katsudon…it’s got rice and pork and a sauce that’s unlike anything you’ve ever tasted.”

Victor was already eating before Yuuri even finished.  He shoveled the food into his mouth at a comical rate, smiling and moaning ecstatically all the while.  “Is this what everybody here eats?” he asked through a full mouth.

“Well, it’s one of her most popular dishes.”  Yuuri sat across from Victor on the bed and watched him eat.  Even when he was stuffing his face, Victor never looked anything other than gorgeous.

“Here, you should have some too,” Victor said, holding out a piece of pork to him.

“Oh, no thank you.  That’s all yours.  I ate already.”

“Yuuriiii.”  Victor leaned forward and pressed the pork against Yuuri’s lips.  “You aren’t possibly telling me you can resist this?”

Yuuri opened his mouth and accepted the piece of meat, smiling even as he rolled his eyes.  “I’m glad you like it,” he said.  “It’s my favorite.  As I’m sure you can tell.”

“Hmm?  How do you mean?”

“Victor.”  This time there was no smile to accompany the glare.  “I know your eyes work.  I’m not exactly the thinnest person in Hasetsu.”

“Maybe not.  But I like it about you.”  Victor smiled, grains of rice stuck to his face.  “It makes you cute.”

“You don’t have to flatter me like that,” Yuuri replied with a brief snort of laughter.  He picked up the tray containing the now empty bowl and set it down on the floor.

“Can’t I say nice things about my Любимый?”

“…Your what?”

“My sweetheart.  My darling.”

Yuuri stared at Victor, searching for any sign that he was joking, that the word had actually meant something else entirely, but Victor’s eyes were all sincerity.  Yuuri pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh.

“I…what?” he giggled.

“You don’t want me to call you that?”

“I didn’t say that.”  Yuuri could feel his blush going all the way up to his ears.

Victor moved closer to Yuuri on the bed, until they were side by side with their backs against the wall.  Victor took hold of Yuuri’s hand and kissed it with gentlest reverence.  He murmured more words into the skin of his fingers as he did so, and Yuuri didn’t recognize a single one.  It didn’t matter; in fact, he preferred it that way.  This way, he could listen to the rolling, rich vowels of Victor’s tongue without being distracted by meaning.  It was pure music.

Yuuri gently moved his hand to Victor’s cheek, and his heart stuttered to feel the weight of Victor leaning into his touch.  He was struck by a sudden, violent swell of affection, and he swallowed tightly, searching Victor’s expression.

“Hey, Victor?” he asked.

“Yes, love?”

“…Will you lay down with me?”

Victor’s smile was too gentle, too fond…it almost pained Yuuri to look at it.  “Of course I will.”

Yuuri’s bed was small and narrow, and it forced them close together.  He didn’t mind it, because as he laid his head down on Victor’s chest with Victor’s arm underneath him, he was wrapped in warmth and scent.  The perfume that Victor once smelled so strongly of was gone now, and all that was left was the tangy aroma of salt, the breeze of the sea clinging to Victor’s hair, and the thin layer of sweat that never seemed to leave him.

“Yuuri?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you’d ever want to leave Hasetsu?”

“I’ve thought about it a few times.  Minako has told me all about schools in the city and other designers I could apprentice with, but…all that costs money.  And I can’t leave my parents in the state they’re in.”

“If you didn’t have to worry about money, though.  Would you leave?”

Yuuri pretended to think about it, even though the answer had laid in his heart for years.  “I would.  At the very least, just to try it.”

“Would you leave right now?”

Yuuri peered up at Victor’s face.  “Why do you ask?”

Victor shrugged and looked away.  “No reason.”

But Yuuri knew the reason.  He felt the tight electric grip of panic in his chest as he said, “…You miss being a pirate.”

“What?  No, not at all!”

Yuuri buried his face into Victor’s chest and squeezed him tight.  “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!  Yuuri, listen—I don’t miss being a pirate.  I just miss the ocean sometimes, that’s all.”

A pause.  _Of course he wants to leave.  He got his vest, didn’t he?  Now he’s just being cooped up like an animal down at that shack.  It’s not meant for him.  I should never have forced him to stay._

“Yuuri?”

“I’m sorry, Victor,” Yuuri mumbled.  “I’m sorry that…that we have to sneak around like this.  That we can’t just…be normal.”

“Yuuri.”  Victor laughed his name more than spoke it.  “If I wanted normal I’d be somewhere very different right now.”

“But it’s not right.  It’s not fair to you,” Yuuri said, his face still buried.  “I can’t ask you to live and die in that house with no human contact at all.”

“That’s pretty grim, I will admit.”  Victor took Yuuri’s hand and kissed it again.  “Well…what if I paid for you to go to one of those schools you want?  I could send money back to your parents too.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“What _can_ you ask me to do?”

Yuuri lifted his eyes.  “I don’t know…” he whispered.  “I just know that…I want to stay with you.”

“And you are with me.  So don’t worry, love.”  Victor pushed Yuuri’s bangs back from his forehead and kissed it.  When Yuuri didn’t respond, Victor tilted Yuuri’s face up and kissed him properly.

Yuuri tried to believe him, tried to push past the wall of anxiety that was ruining this, as it ruined everything.  He closed his eyes and emptied his mind of everything but the feeling of Victor on his lips, the warmth of his body, the way his tongue pushed so carefully into his mouth.  He let Victor tilt his head just so, let him kiss even deeper, let him push his body just ever so slightly closer.

His heart was pulsing into every extremity of his body.  It warmed his fingers, his lips, down to his legs and feet, until a thin film of sweat crystallized across his skin.  Yuuri whined quietly, though he wasn’t afraid, and he wasn’t undesiring of this.

The first time Victor had kissed him like this, just a little further than a meeting of lips, they had been sitting beneath the lighthouse on a sunny day.  He’d been so careful, almost sheepish, in the soft way he’d barely touched the tip of his tongue to Yuuri’s lips in the middle of a kiss.  Yuuri, without even thinking, had opened up to it, to this kiss that he knew nothing of, but welcomed with the fervent curiosity he felt when confronted with a new challenge.  It had surprised Victor more than Yuuri might have expected, and the wide-eyed blush on his face when they’d pulled away had sent Yuuri into fits of laughter.

It was a little different now, with Victor in his bed, with Victor’s body slowly moving closer and magnetizing to his.  Different, but with the taste of the familiar.  Before he knew it, Victor’s arms were around him, and he was kissing Yuuri’s jaw as he tugged Yuuri even closer.  Yuuri’s heart pounded in his ears until the noises of the restaurant below were a dim, muddled fog.  All he heard was his heart, intertwining with the rhythm of Victor’s heart, and inhales, exhales, and sighs.

Victor’s lips were moving down, shockwaves of gooseflesh rippling out from where he touched Yuuri’s skin.  Yuuri embraced Victor’s shoulders, feeling the solid muscles of his back and his arms, so steady and unbreakable.  There was no longer Yuuri’s body and Victor’s body; it was a different state of being altogether, that belonged to each one and also to them both.

Yuuri let out a gasp as he felt something electric:  Victor’s teeth on his neck.

It was only a light scraping, really, just a gentle drag against the pulsing vein.  It sent sharp lightning up and down his body, a sensation that transcended pleasure and transcended pain.  Yuuri gripped the back of Victor’s shirt with a shaking hand.  He’d never imagined such a feeling in his whole life.  The moan that escaped his open mouth was more of a grunt than an exhale.

Victor kissed his neck, gentler this time, and it drove Yuuri crazy with how hollow it felt now, how teasing now that he knew what it could be.  He lifted a hand and dug his fingers into Victor’s long hair at the back of his head.

Victor, seemingly getting the message, nibbled Yuuri’s neck again, and the sound that Yuuri made then was one he never knew he could make.

“Do you like this?” Victor asked, sounding unsure despite the resounding _yes_ that was reverberating through Yuuri’s entire body.

“Yes…I do.”  Yuuri breathed the words out and pulled Victor’s head closer.

It felt like hours that Victor kissed and nibbled and sucked at Yuuri’s neck.  It was so good, so good…Yuuri felt heat pooling in parts of his body that, in any other scenario, would have been humiliating.  But Victor’s mouth was so good, Yuuri didn’t care if Victor could feel every single reaction he was pulling out of him.  Yuuri closed his eyes; everything that wasn’t Victor, that wasn’t _this_ , was just a distraction.  He wanted to fall deep and drown in this moment.

So when Victor’s hand wandered down between his legs, he felt no shame and no fear.  Victor dragged his palm up the outside of Yuuri’s pants, the warmth seeping into the hardness just beneath the fabric.  He was gentle, as all his movements were, never pushing too far or too quickly.  Victor waited for Yuuri to tell him what he wanted next.  Yuuri didn’t know; he just knew that he liked this.  He just knew that he wanted this, he wanted it so badly that all thought had left him.

Victor’s touch was light, but the weight of his hand on him, mixed with the storm of heat from his lips to Yuuri’s blood, was almost more than Yuuri could bear.  He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to consider what any of this meant or would mean.  It felt good, he was happy, he wanted this, and Victor wanted it too.

It was a small, almost quiet orgasm when it hit him.  Yuuri gasped sharply, feeling the hot weight of Victor’s hand against him as his body took what it wanted, chased the sensation it had been teased with.  There was nothing earth-shattering or explosive about the release; Yuuri had had better on his own.  But the difference was that it was just another crack in the wall, another destruction of restraint.  Victor had done this to him, _for_ him, and no one could erase it.  It was theirs now.  Victor was Yuuri’s just that much more.

When Victor lifted his face away from Yuuri’s neck, his face was blazing bright red.  His bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, and his lips were puffed crimson.  He grinned, a shy crooked smile, his eyes shining and full of painfully raw adoration.

“You make really cute noises,” he said.  He sounded like a fascinated, innocent child.

Yuuri giggled.  It seemed much too strange that still, there was no shame, no sense of wrongness or guilt.  Maybe this was what it felt like to really be in love.

 

Against their better judgment, Victor stayed the night.  They curled up together underneath Yuuri’s blanket.  When Vicchan demanded entrance into Yuuri’s room, he ceded his spot in bed with some indignation, eventually finding a spot between their feet.  The bed barely held all three of them, but Yuuri hadn’t slept so well in years.  When he awoke to see Victor’s sleeping face beside him, it felt like a dream.  He couldn’t help himself; he leaned forward and pecked a kiss to the tip of Victor’s nose.

Victor mumbled and groaned before blinking his eyes awake.  He yawned widely, his mouth settling into a contented grin.  “I love waking up with a beautiful man in my bed.”

“Mmm, except you’re in _my_ bed,” Yuuri replied.

“Even better.”  Victor’s smile widened as Yuuri leaned in for another kiss.

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri said, stroking the side of Victor’s bed-warm cheek.

“Yes?”

“How are you so pretty?”

“I traded my soul to a sea witch.”  Victor stuck out his tongue.  “It was pretty good deal, actually.”

Yuuri laughed as Victor moved in for more kisses.  Their snuggling woke Vicchan, who woofed lazily from the foot of the bed.  When he was ignored, he crawled up between them and flopped down by Yuuri’s face.  He nosed his way to Yuuri’s cheek and began licking him with furious affection.

“Vicchan, why can’t you share?” Victor whined.  He sat up and crossed his arms over his chest in a pout.

Yuuri gently set Vicchan on the floor and swung his feet over the side of his bed.  His back was covered in sudden warmth as Victor embraced him.

“So,” Yuuri said, shivering and melting into Victor’s heat.  “How are we going to get you out of here?”

“I could live here.”  Victor kissed the back of Yuuri’s neck.

“You don’t want that.  Makkachin would miss you.”

“Then come live with me.”  Another kiss.  “Or I could steal you away.  Dress you in the finest jewelry and silks…your only job would be warming my bed and telling me your every heart’s desire.”

Yuuri smiled, glad that Victor couldn’t see his blush.  _That actually doesn’t sound so bad._

“Let me think about it,” he replied, turning his head to catch Victor’s lips in his own.

Once Yuuri was dressed and ready for work—he’d had to choose a shirt with a high collar once he discovered in horror the huge dark mark on his neck from the night before—they settled on a plan.  Victor would watch the streets for a window of opportunity during which he could leave Yuuri’s room.  From there, getting back to his shack would be easier.  Yuuri would come visit again after work as he usually did.  Neither of them said so in as many words, but Victor’s offer of paying for Yuuri to go to school still hung in the air, and they hadn’t forgotten that the conversation needed an end.  Yuuri knew he would spend the whole day thinking about it.  Or rather, convincing himself to give the answer he truly wanted to give.

Satsuki’s dress was nearly finished.  Yuuri only had a few more details to add, and then her final fitting was scheduled for tomorrow morning.  He was overjoyed that it was so close to completion.  Satsuki had loved the dress through every one of its incarnations, and Morita had never stopped being almost clingy in his desire to watch Yuuri’s entire creative process.  That wasn’t to say that Yuuri hadn’t come to appreciate the attention.  It was strange to have somebody so invested in something he was making, something that he had come up with all on his own.

The work day was slow, giving Yuuri enough time to concentrate on the dress.  A few repair jobs needed attention throughout the day as well, but it was all routine enough work that Yuuri spent most of his time deep in thought.

If he accepted Victor’s offer, Yuuri might be away from home for a long time, maybe even a year.  He’d have to send back money to his parents every month or twice a month.  He’d have to ask Minako’s permission, since he was her only employee and Minako couldn’t run the shop on her own.  Of course, he couldn’t tell her the whole story.  Perhaps if he just said that he’d been saving up, she’d believe him.

It would give Victor back the freedom he deserved, too.  Staying in Hasetsu could never be a long-term commitment for him.  Not when he was still wanted, and not as long as the piracy was getting worse all the time.  The people might never accept him here, even if he lived the most honest life of them all.  Deep down, Yuuri had always known this:  if he really wanted to be with Victor, with no secrets and no sneaking around, they couldn’t do it here.

At the end of the day, Yuuri took his usual roundabout path down to the beach.  He hoped that Victor hadn’t had much trouble getting out of his house.  Makkachin was probably worried about him.

He walked up to the shack, smiling as he lightly touched the bruise on his neck.  It was lucky that nobody had noticed it.  There was no way to lie himself out of an explanation.  Besides, it felt too deeply personal, like it would be profane for anybody else to even see it.

A knock on the door brought Makkachin’s excited barking from inside.  Yuuri heard scuffling feet, and then puzzling silence.  Makkachin whined and barked again.

“Victor?” Yuuri called, knocking on the door again.  There was no response.

_Okay, no need to panic, he might just be sleeping._   “Victor, I’m coming in, okay?  It’s just me.”

He opened the door, stepped into the darkened shack, and reached down to pet Makkachin’s head.  Before he could stand up straight again, a dense, splitting pain shot into the back of his head, knocking his glasses free and sending him falling heavy to the floor.  Makkachin began to bark and growl furiously, but the sound faded in and out as nausea and dizziness flooded into all of Yuuri’s senses.  It had all happened so quickly he couldn’t even cry out.

Somebody grabbed his arm and flipped him over onto his back.  A dark, blurry double-shape was yelling at him in words Yuuri couldn’t quite process.  Yuuri blinked, reached back to check his head for blood, and slowly realized that he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

The person atop him leaned down closer and came into sharper focus.  He couldn’t have been any older than Minami, with bright blonde hair and green eyes that crackled and smoked in their intensity.  As he screamed, Yuuri could almost imagine that his mouth was full of fangs.

Yuuri couldn’t understand what the boy was saying.  It sounded like Victor’s language, but Yuuri couldn’t pick out a single word.

Except for one.

“Где Victor!?” the boy screamed in his face.  “ _Где Victor_!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SHIT
> 
> Feels good to be back with this fic again. I hope you guys are still enjoying it! If you are, please let me know with a comment! (it's my birthday on Saturday, pretty please?) As always, come visit me at my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The squid loves you all <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your sweet words and birthday wishes!! You guys are the best <3

_“You gathered all the clouds_   
_Safely overhead_   
_I try in vain_   
_still we're going under_   
_Nothing will remain_   
_We'll be the hurricane”_

_\- “The Hurricane”_

 

Victor knew he should have left Yuuri’s room earlier.  The temptation of finally spending one full night with him had won out over the nagging feeling in his gut.  The feeling that something was wrong.  He’d known that ignoring it would lead to real consequences, just as it always had.

That morning, when Yuuri left for work, the feeling was so bad that Victor was nearly sick with it.  He’d tried to leave as soon as he could, but it was to no avail.  All day long, people were cutting through the back alley just below Yuuri’s window.  Anybody would have had to simply look up and find the criminal that the whole town had definitely _not_ forgotten about.

What’s more, that boy wouldn’t leave the yard.

Victor knew of Minami, the part-timer that worked with Yuuri’s parents—and who most definitely was head over heels for Yuuri, just to hear how Yuuri described him—and the teenager that kept coming into the backyard could only be him.  From there, Minami had a perfect view of Yuuri’s window.  And it was no secret that Minami was checking:  he took several good long moments to stare up towards the glass with dark, vigilant eyes.

Victor was posted up near the window, sitting on the floor as still as his sore muscles would allow.  The restaurant below was quieter than last night, and Victor had no idea how well sound traveled in this house.  Any movements that might cause the floors to creak, or simply create any unfamiliar noise that raised curiosities, had to be minimized.  For hours he sat there, watching and waiting with increasingly agitated tension, finding absolutely no means by which to escape.

If not for Yuuri, Victor wouldn’t have minded being spotted.  Anybody that caused trouble could be bought, whether with gold or steel.  But Victor couldn’t do it.  He loved Yuuri too much.

So he waited.

He began to lose hope past noon.  It was starting to look more and more like he wouldn’t be able to get out until dark.  And all day, the feeling of dread had never left him.

Victor had done something like this once or twice before.  Well, maybe three or four times.  He’d left the crew, told Christophe he could have it, and taken Makkachin to search for a new home in a small coastal town.  Victor never regretted those outings.  Not even when every person he met on such excursions slipped through his fingers, led away by more steady promises of normalcy than Victor could ever provide.  Or when they talked their way into his bed, loving every inch of him in darkness until the morning light illuminated everything they had left behind:  empty wallet, empty bed, empty words.

Sometimes, Victor would go back on his own.  Other times, Christophe came to get him.  They never talked about anything.

It was about the time that Christophe usually came looking.

Victor hadn’t told Christophe where he was going; in fact, it hadn’t been a good idea to choose this town in the first place.  Hasetsu sat right in the middle of another pirate fleet’s territory, and Victor’s presence here should have rattled a few egos.  He knew _of_ Jean-Jacques Leroy—or King JJ, or whatever he called himself—in that he knew he sailed the southern seas.  Victor had never met him, nor had any inclination to.  If Victor’s crew came poking around down here looking for him, JJ might very well take it the wrong way.

Coming here was never going to be beneficial to anybody.  Victor wasn’t sure why he’d chosen this place anyway.  Maybe if he was honest with himself, he’d figure it out…or admit it.

 

Yuuri was sure he was about to die.  The boy was screaming and shaking the gun in his face so wildly he was afraid it would misfire.  He kept repeating the same question over and over:  something about Victor.  This boy could only be part of Victor’s crew.  As for how he found him, how he ended up here, Yuuri had absolutely no way of guessing.

The gun came closer.  Finally, the words broke free from Yuuri’s mouth.  “I don’t know!  I don’t know what you’re saying!”

He hadn’t even noticed that there was a second person in the house until another youth stepped forward and grabbed the barrel of the gun with a gloved hand.  He forced the blonde teenager to aim away and towards the floor.  When he spoke, it was in the same language, firm, but softer, and with steady, hard eyes.  The blonde stared back at him, eyes crackling, and Yuuri was almost sure he was going to turn the gun onto this boy now.  But instead, the blonde just huffed and relaxed his shoulders.

“Sorry,” the second boy said to Yuuri.  “We didn’t come here to kill you.”

This one had dark, black hair, equally dark eyes, and a hard-set jawline.  His voice seemed unreasonably deep coming from one so young.  Despite his gentler tone, Yuuri refused to let his guard down.  The boy hadn’t helped him up, after all, and the blonde still had his finger on the trigger.

Makkachin came over to Yuuri where he lay on the floor.  She sniffed at him and whined, gently licking his face.  Yuuri sat up, keeping eye contact with the two youths, and put his arm around Makkachin.  He let the feeling of her ground him.  Makkachin hadn’t attacked these two, which meant that she knew them.  However, she was clearly torn right now, unsure of who to protect and what the true threat was.

“We’re looking for our captain,” the dark-haired boy said.  “Tell us where he is.”

Yuuri swallowed.  His throat was dry, and the motion was painful.  “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice remarkably steady for the panic he felt.  “I thought he was here.”

The blonde barked out a word Yuuri didn’t know and took a sudden step forward.  Makkachin started and a growl began in her throat.

“He says you’re lying,” the other boy said.  He crossed his arms over his chest.  “And I say you’re lying too.”

“Honestly, I don’t know.  I don’t know.”  Yuuri tightened his grip on Makkachin ever so slightly.  “The last time I saw him was this morning.”

“And where was he this morning?”

Yuuri swallowed again.  He was not going to tell these pirates that Victor had been anywhere near his house.  He’d rather be shot right now than have these people within a mile of his family.  “He was…with me.”

The two boys shared a glance.  The blonde looked back at Yuuri, then rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh.  He let out a string of exasperated-sounding words, gesturing wildly at Yuuri as he did so.  At the end of his tirade, he glanced at Yuuri again and began to laugh.

“When does he usually come back?” asked the boy who, clearly, was the only one between them who spoke Yuuri’s language.

“I don’t know what he does during the day.”

“Well you must know something.”  The boy took a step forward and flashed an evil look at him.  Makkachin shrank up against Yuuri and whined.  “I suggest you come up with something better.”

“Okay, all right, look,” Yuuri exclaimed.  “I arranged to meet him here around this time, okay?  Sometimes he forgets what time it is, he’s probably just late.  I-if we just…wait here then he’ll show up.  Promise.”

The blonde looked to the other boy, who replied in Victor’s language; Yuuri figured he must be translating.

“One hour,” the boy said.  He sat down in one of Victor’s chairs.  “If he doesn’t show up by then, you’d better start remembering more.”

The blonde resumed his aim at Yuuri’s face and grinned.

 

Victor was supposed to been out of Yuuri’s house hours ago.  By the time it was finally safe, the sky was sunset orange, and the restaurant below was rumbling to life.  Minami hadn’t been in the yard for a while, and the streets were clearing up as well.  At the first opportunity, Victor all but jumped out the window and down the pipe.

No soon had he turned the corner than a familiar voice rang out, the very one he’d been dreading.

“There you are, Victor.”

Victor cringed, baring his teeth, and deflated.  “…Christophe,” he groaned.  “What are you doing here?”

Victor’s first mate stood leaning against the wall of the neighbor’s house, his black coat glimmering with rubies.  He wore the matching peacock feathered hat that the two of them had bought many years ago.  Christophe smiled, half-fondly, half with exasperation.  It was a look he’d mastered.

“You’ve had your fun,” Christophe said matter-of-factly.  “Now it’s time to come back.”

“Not this time.”  Victor moved in a wide circle around him.  “Get out of my way, I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Christophe reached out and grabbed Victor’s upper arm.  Victor tensed his jaw and exhaled slowly through his nostrils.  “Christophe,” he said, turning his head and smiling.  “I’m a little aggravated from the day I’ve had.  I’m very late for an appointment, and I believe I made myself very clear about my intentions.”

“This time you’ve been too reckless,” Christophe replied, unfazed.  “If I’d known from your letter that you were down this far into JJ’s territory, I’d have come to get you a lot sooner.”

“Do I look like I give a shit about JJ?”

“You’d better.  You really have been out of the loop, haven’t you?”

Victor yanked his arm out of Christophe’s grip.  “Why would I care about any of that?  I’m not a pirate anymore, Chris.”

“Yeah?  Then what are you doing with yourself now?  I saw that little shack you’re living in down by the beach.  That’s gonna be the life you want?  Victor, how many more times do you think I’m going to put up with this nonsense?”

“Then stop putting up with it and leave me alone,” Victor bit back.  “I don’t want the ship anymore, I don’t want the crew anymore.  You’re the one who refuses to just let it go.”

Christophe narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue.  “What his name this time?”

Victor stared back.  “I don’t have time for this.”  He began to walk away.

“Victor, where are you going?” Chris asked, exhausted.

“I’m going home.”

“Then you may as well let me come with you.  I left Yuri and Otabek there in case you went back before I found you.”

Victor stopped in his tracks and whirled around.  “The boys…they’re at my house?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yes.  I told them to stay there until you or I got back.”

Victor cursed, more loudly than he should have, and took off running.

 

“It’s been an hour,” Otabek said, standing up from his chair.  He reached for the dagger hanging from his belt.  “Did you remember anything else?”

Yuuri had been sweating nonstop.  “I don’t know where he is,” he said, gripping Makkachin’s fur with a shaking hand.  “I really don’t…please, we just need to wait a little bit longer—”

“ _We_ can wait all night.”  He and the blonde boy took a step closer.  “But unless you have anything else to say, you’re no longer needed.”

_Not like this…not like this…._

Yuuri remembered something that Mari had told him long ago.  He never expected to use it or even need it, but in the back of his mind, he kept it.

_Right below the heart, right here_ , she had said as she pointed at the spot on Yuuri’s chest.  _Get them good with a solid hit.  It’ll give you enough time to run._

Their mother never wanted Mari teaching him how to punch.  But they still practiced it together in the yard, when she wasn’t looking.  Mari taught him how to make a fist, how to stand, how to let the force come from his arm rather than his wrist.  She let him get a few good hits on her, just so he’d know what it felt like on his knuckles, so he could expect the sting.  Back then, he didn’t think that if it ever came down to it that he’d be able to do it.

Right now, he knew he could do it.

The boy that spoke his language—Otabek, or so Yuuri thought, from the few times the blonde boy had addressed him in the last hour—was closest to him.  Yuuri was still crouched on the floor; he hadn’t dared to move, not with a gun so close to him.  If he could catch Otabek off guard, it might startle the other boy long enough for Yuuri to get away.

Before the adrenaline instinct could leave his body, Yuuri balled up his fist and leapt to his feet.  The movement was so quick, he hadn’t even known he could move like that, and he focused all his attention, all his senses, on nothing but the small part of Otabek’s chest that he needed to aim for.  The spot he was going to ram his fist into with all of his strength, just the way Mari taught him.

Everything, it seemed, became sluggish around him.  He could see the instant when the surprise entered the boys’ eyes, the hesitation and the confusion.  It was a short moment, a wisp of time, and it was already dissolving.  As Yuuri leapt up, he launched his whole body up and forward, steeling his muscles and hitting Otabek just below the heart.  He felt almost no pain when the punch connected, and the anguished, desperate intake of breath from Otabek told Yuuri that he’d gotten him in just the right spot.

Yuuri scrambled for the door.  It looked like it was a half a mile away, an impossible distance to cross.  He could think of nothing, not the fact that he was putting the boy with the gun behind him, not where he would go once he left, not what he would do if the blonde shot him, not anything except—

He smelled the gunpowder before he was aware of anything else.  All at once, the world began to move again.  Makkachin was howling frantically, foreign screams filled the air around him, and a burning pain was soaking into his skin.

Yuuri collapsed to the floor, too overcome to scream.  His left arm felt hot, heavy, tight.  Boiling liquid dripped down from his bicep.  He opened his mouth but no sound would escape, until he forced it, vomited up a noise that was nothing he had ever known before.

The door flew open and chaos consumed him.

 

When Victor heard the gunshot, he was only seconds away from entering his house.  He could have screamed with the dread that filled him up from the heart outward.  He threw open the door and saw Yuri, standing across the room with a smoking pistol.  Otabek was on the floor, coughing and sputtering.  Yuuri, _his_ Yuuri, laid between the boys and the door.  He was still.  Victor saw blood.

A rage erupted inside him.  Victor locked eyes with Yuri, who had already seen the change in Victor’s demeanor.

“What did you do?” Victor growled, crossing the room in two quick strides, grabbing the pistol out of Yuri’s hands and pointing it back at him.  “Who gave you permission to shoot anyone!?”

“I had to stop him, he was going to run!” Yuri insisted, hands held up in surrender as Victor pushed the still smoking gun barrel to the underside of his chin.

“ _Victor_!” Chris roared.  “Have you lost your damn mind!?”

Victor pointed the pistol at Chris, eyes flashing.  “This is your fault,” he spat.  “I _told_ you I wasn’t coming back.  I told you not to look for me.  But you came here anyway, and now look what you’ve done!!”

“Captain…” came Otabek’s ragged voice from behind him.  “He’s not…Yuri just got him in the arm.”  He paused to cough and inhale.  “He’s not dead…just look.”

Victor glanced down at Yuuri’s form, crumpled up on the wooden floor.  Sure enough, he was moving.

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed out.  Relief flooded his veins like a drug.  He dropped the pistol to the floor and knelt down beside Yuuri.  Carefully, avoiding the bloodied arm, he put his hand under Yuuri’s head.  His glasses had been knocked off, and a small bump was forming on his forehead.

“Yuuri,” Victor repeated.  “Любимый, are you all right?”

Yuuri blinked.  His eyes searched the room until they fell on Victor’s face, and Victor could feel some of the tension leave Yuuri’s body.

“You’re late,” Yuuri grunted, smiling and wincing through the pain.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry….”  Victor took the hand from Yuuri’s non-injured arm and kissed it.  He was aware of Christophe kneeling down beside them, and he allowed it.

“It’s not a deep injury,” Chris said as he inspected the wound.  “He was only grazed.  But it should be looked at by a doctor.”

Yuuri forced himself to sit up, groaning all the while.  Victor kept his arm behind his back to support him.  Makkachin approached them, whining incessantly and sniffing at the blood.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri, I’m so sorry,” Victor repeated.  He held Yuuri’s head against his chest and pressed gentle kisses to the top of his skull.  “This is my fault.”

“I’m okay, Victor, I promise.”  It sliced Victor to his heart to hear Yuuri’s gentle voice, how he was the one bleeding but he smiled through it, how he was the one assuring him.  Cold fear ensnared his every thought.  What if this had gone differently?  What if the bullet had pierced his arm, or his hand, so Yuuri could never sew again?  What if the shot had killed him?

“Dump him off at the doctor and let’s go already,” said Yuri as he helped Otabek to his feet.

“ _You_ can go,” Victor snapped.  “Yuuri and I aren’t going anywhere.”

“…Seriously?  It’s even got the same name as me?”

Victor turned and stared the boy straight down to his soul.  “If you mouth off to me one more time—”

“Victor,” Chris said, with the firm tone no one else was permitted to use with the captain.  “Calm down.  Everything is fine.”

“He can’t go to the doctor here, Chris,” Victor insisted.  “How is he going to explain a bullet wound?”

“Easier than explaining an untreated bullet wound.”

Victor knew he was right.  He knew he was only making excuses to stave off the inevitable.  There was no way to conceal this from the rest of the town, from Yuuri’s family, from the ever-suspicious Minako.  Victor would not let it all fall apart.  It couldn’t.

He held Yuuri tighter against his body.  _I’m Victor Nikiforov, the King of Gold…I can have anything I want…anything…._

“Victor,” Yuuri said, his voice a small rumble against his chest.  “I can just say the injury was something else.  I won’t tell the doctor it was a bullet.”

Chris chuckled.  “Any doctor worth his salt would see through that lie in a minute.”

“…Not if I pay him.  I can pay him not to ask questions.”

Victor smiled.  “Are my bad habits rubbing off on you, love?”

“Just a little.”

“How do we know he won’t talk?” asked Otabek.  He had finally regained his breath and composure from the hit to his solar plexus.

“He won’t,” Victor assured him.  “Yuuri puts himself at risk every day just to talk to me.”

“It’ll be okay, Victor,” Yuuri said again.  “I’ll tell him that I fell or something.”

“I have a better idea,” said Otabek with a heavy sigh.  “How about somebody go get some supplies and _I’ll_ do it?”

Victor shared a glance with Christophe, who only shrugged noncommittally.  He looked to Yuuri and said, “It’s up to you, Yuuri.”

“Either way is fine with me.”  Yuuri smiled again, and it loosened the tightness in Victor’s heart.  He was being remarkably calm, as if they were just discussing what they were going to eat for dinner that night.

Christophe got to his feet.  “I’ll go.  I was in town all day looking for you, I know where to find some supplies.”

“All right,” Victor conceded.  It did seem like the better idea, after all.  Otabek was no doctor, but he knew how to care for small injuries well enough.  Mostly, it was because Yuri was always getting himself hurt, whether it was in the kitchen or during a scuffle out at sea.  Victor wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him sooner to ask him, but the panic and anger had probably had a lot to do with it.

Christophe left, telling them he’d be back shortly, and the remaining four were left in the silent house, in one of the more uncomfortable silences of Victor’s life.

“Let’s get you off the floor here,” Victor said, forcing a smile.  He helped Yuuri to his feet and led him over to the bed.  Victor saw Yuuri’s glasses laying askew on the floor.  Upon picking them up and inspecting them, he saw that the lenses were thankfully unbroken.

Yuri and Otabek watched them both in seething silence.  Yuri looked as though it took all his strength to keep from screaming.  Otabek glared with eyes plucked straight from a demon’s skull.

“So, Yuuri,” Victor said as he handed his glasses back.  “This is, uh…this is my crew.”

Yuuri looked at Victor, with his wide, unreadable smile, and then at the boys across the room, glaring back with expressions of stone.

“Ah…nice to finally meet you,” Yuuri said sheepishly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yuri and Otabek don't like Dad's new boyfriend)
> 
> Thanks for reading, you guys <3 Your feedback means the world to me, so let me know what you think in a comment! You know the drill by now: come visit me at my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for all your super kind words as always <3 You guys are the best and your feedback always makes my day and puts a smile on my face. Thanks for sticking with this fic for so long! I've had so much fun telling this story and I appreciate every single one of you for reading it <3

_“Be the greatest man in history_   
_The greatest man that you can be_   
_Just be_

_Walk, walk out on the beach with me_   
_Walk out in the sea with me_   
_Just be”_

_\- “This Sweet Love”_

 

Christophe wasn’t gone long.  He brought back gauze, disinfectant, and sutures for stitches “just in case”, as he put it.  Victor hovered like a hawk as Otabek wiped the blood from Yuuri’s arm.  He only backed off when Yuuri bodily pushed him away, at which point Victor went to stand by Christophe, pouting.

“You really don’t need to be so worried,” Christophe said with a smirk.  He spoke in his own native tongue, which of the entire crew only Victor could converse with him in.  Victor had always had a knack for picking up languages, and they had spent more than one night intertwined in each other’s arms practicing new ones together.  “He takes being shot pretty well for somebody who’s probably never even left home.”

Victor grumbled.  “Who gave Yuri a gun?  He just learned how to hold one, he’s got no business using a loaded one.”

Christophe shrugged.  “I don’t know where he got it.  I’m not his father.  Ask Otabek.”

Yuri’s eyes flicked over to the two of them when he heard Otabek’s name, but without any understanding of their words, he could only glare suspiciously.

Victor leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed and exhaled heavily.  “So why did you come here after I specifically told you not to?  What is so damn important?”

“What’s so damn important is that Jean-Jacques Leroy is going to make a move on our territory, while our crew is on vacation getting drunk and our captain is chasing skirts in backwater towns.  Or…chasing trousers, as it were.”

“Again I ask, what is the problem?  JJ can’t take anything of mine.  He’s spent his whole life acting like he’s a king down here when half the time nobody even remembers his name.  _I_ never even remember his name.”

“The problem is JJ has been sweet talking over on the mainland and he’s recruited some help.  You remember Guang-Hong Ji?”

Victor frowned.  The name sounded vaguely familiar.  “Sort of…was he the kid with the poison?”

“Not much of a kid anymore.  But yes.”

The story had gone around years ago.  Another pirate ship had run down a frigate that hadn’t even tried to fire back at them.  Upon boarding, they found the entire vessel manned by corpses, and the only living soul aboard was the kitchen boy, only fifteen at the time, sitting in the captain’s cabin helping himself to a freshly cooked feast.  He told them how he had poisoned the entire crew, for no other reason than that he wanted to be the captain.  Impressed by all this, the pirates adopted him into their crew, and over the years he had grown into one of the richest and most feared pirates of the mainland.

“How did JJ get in with him?” Victor asked.

“Don’t know.  But I’ve heard it from too many people for it to just be a rumor.  And you’re right, if it was just JJ we could handle it without you.  But if Guang-Hong really is working with Leroy, then you need to come back.  If you don’t, then I’m not confident there’s anything we can do.”

Victor stared down at the floor.  The blood from Yuuri’s injury was seeping into the wood; there would be a stain later.

“What was your plan if I refused?” Victor asked, keeping his tone neutral.

“Probably hold them off for as long as we could.  Or just cut our losses.  Disperse the crew and divide up the money.  Just let JJ and Guang-Hong have all your territory without a fight.”  Christophe gave him a crooked smile.  “But that’s not the end to your legacy that you want, is it?”

Victor avoided his gaze.  “So do that then.  There’s more than enough money to pay the crew off.  Get them settled somewhere new if they want out.  Or let them join up with Guang-Hong.  Like you said, I’m not their father.”

“Victor.”  Chris laughed.  “You’re a shit liar.”

Victor looked over at Yuuri and Otabek.  They were nearly finished.  Yuuri was being still and patient as Otabek rolled a gauze bandage around his injury, muttering something about keeping it clean.

_JJ’s an idiot, but he’s giving Hasetsu enough trouble all on his own.  If Guang-Hong comes here…._

He tore himself away from that train of thought and walked over to Yuuri.  “All done?” he asked with a wide smile.

Otabek nodded.  “It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches.  Which is good, because I hate threading needles.”

“There’s a trick to it,” said Yuuri.  “I can show you sometime if you want.”

The look on Otabek’s face almost sent Victor into a fit of giggles.  He looked so caught off guard, almost like the first time Makkachin saw herself in a mirror.  “Uh…sure,” he mumbled eventually.

Yuuri inspected his shirt sleeve, torn and bloody from where the wound had seeped up from underneath.  “I probably can’t wear this back home.”

“I’ll give you one of mine,” Victor offered.  He knelt down to pull his chest from beneath the bed.  “If you want, I’ll wash the blood out of your shirt and give it back to you later.  In the meantime, have this.”

He handed Yuuri one of the white cotton shirts he’d stolen from the merchant’s ship weeks ago, and halfway hoped that Yuuri wouldn’t ask where it came from.  Instead, Yuuri accepted it with an almost giddy smile.

“Thank you,” he said, and slipped it on.

Victor barely had a chance to admire Yuuri wearing it.  It fit him well, and Victor wondered if it would smell like Yuuri when it was eventually returned.  Before he had even begun to appreciate it, Christophe was speaking to him again.

“So now that’s all settled,” his first mate said.  “But I’m guessing you’re going to make me beg just a little while longer before you decide to come back.”  Chris spoke, Victor noticed, in the language that Yuuri would understand.

“I’m not coming back,” Victor insisted, biting back the growl rising in his throat.  “But if you all leave now you can probably make it back to the crew by morning.”

Chris sighed.  “Fine.  You want to be stubborn, then be stubborn.  The boys and I will find a place to stay in town until you get your head out of your ass.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” Yuuri said, drawing everyone’s attention to him.  “Everybody in town is on edge about pirates…so they’re suspicious of foreigners.”

Chris laughed, though not unkindly, and said, “Suspicious townsfolk are nothing.  Everybody will look at you funny unless you act like you’re supposed to be there.  It’s just a matter of acting.”

This last sentence left Christophe’s mouth with a near-perfect mimicry of a Hasetsu accent.  Yuuri blinked at him, thoroughly impressed; it was like he had a whole new voice.

“Still,” Yuuri said, shaking off the momentary awe.  “It’s very…I just don’t think it’s safe.  People are still looking for Victor in town.  If they even suspect for a second that you might be with him somehow…everyone will panic.”

Victor glanced at Yuuri, who was staring down at his hands with a tortured gaze.  _People will think you had something to do with it.  That you snuck pirates into town.  That’s what it is, isn’t it, Yuuri?_

“I agree,” Victor said.  “The three of you should stay here with me.”

“What?” exclaimed Otabek.  “Why?”  He hastily translated for Yuri, who began ranting and raving in long, garbled strings of words.

“Because I’m your captain, and I said so,” Victor told them.  Yuri stared past Victor at Yuuri, his eyes straight daggers and full of violent distrust.

“We’ll stay _one_ night,” Christophe conceded.  “In the morning, you give me the decision you think you can live with.”

 

Yuuri wanted—needed—to talk.  And Victor couldn’t refuse him, nor was there any good excuse to delay it.  After Christophe and the boys were in agreement about the night’s arrangements, Yuuri had a question that he deserved an answer to.

_What now?_

They sat in the dying sunlight beneath the lighthouse, Makkachin curled up next to Victor with her head in his lap.  It was quiet, calm for a few moments, a catching of breath after far too much had happened.

“I don’t think your crew likes me,” Yuuri mumbled into his knees.  His arms were wrapped around his legs, drawn up to his chest, and he stared out at the ocean with unreadable eyes.

Victor smirked.  “They don’t like any of my lovers.  They think you’re a distraction.”

“I guess that’s only fair.  Minako doesn’t like you either.”

Victor sighed and swung his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.  He rested his head atop Yuuri’s and said, “She’d kill me if she found out what I let happen to you.”

Yuuri giggled.  He intertwined his fingers with Victor’s where they rested over his shoulder.  For a while, he said nothing, and then he kissed Victor’s calloused hand.

“I never thought they’d come find you,” Yuuri said.  “They must really need you for something.”

A pause, just a half-second too long.  “Nah.  It’s not anything like that.”

“You know, when you lie to me just because you don’t want to talk about something, it’s insulting.”

Victor swallowed, and had the grace to feel ashamed.  “Sorry.”  For all Yuuri’s soft-spokenness and worry, his words often cut Victor the deepest of anyone he had ever known.

So he recounted to Yuuri what Christophe had told him.  Of JJ and Guang-Hong, of the very real possibility that all of Victor’s legacy could be destroyed.  Yuuri listened attentively the whole while, nodding and making small noises of affirmation as Victor spoke.  It scared Victor how he couldn’t decipher a single emotion or thought going through Yuuri’s mind.

He wanted to keep talking, to keep explaining and explaining and explaining just so he would never have to finish.  Just so he wouldn’t have to come up with what to say next.  So he wouldn’t have to tell Yuuri that he didn’t know what he was going to do.  He wanted with all his heart to look at him and tell him, with all the truth he was capable of, that he was not going to leave him.  That he would stay, that he hadn’t an instant’s hesitation about it.

“I’m not worried, though,” Victor said.  “Your friend in the navy, Takeshi, right?  He went off with some of the best frigates in the military.  They’ll make short work of JJ and anybody else he’s got with him.”

“I hope so.”  Yuuri did not sound convinced.  In fact, there was the hint of devastation beneath his words.

Victor frowned and tightened his grip on Yuuri’s fingers.  “Trust me, Yuuri.  It will all be fine.”

Yuuri squeezed back.  After a moment of silence, he kissed Victor’s hand again.  “Yeah,” he murmured.  “Yeah, it will be.”

There was still something in Yuuri’s voice that Victor couldn’t quite place.  He forced a smile and put his free hand on Yuuri’s face, tilting it towards his own.  He kissed him in what he hoped was a genuine show of reassurance.  To his relief—though it seemed a strange thing to feel, relief—Yuuri pushed his tongue into Victor’s mouth, deepening the kiss and leaning further into him.

Victor’s relief quickly turned to confusion, and then excitement as Yuuri continued to lean in, with more force until Victor found himself leaning back and then laying on the grass.  He blinked and caught his breath, too dazed to move as Yuuri continued kissing him, straddling him, running his hands over Victor’s chest and grasping at the vest that he’d constructed with his own beautiful hands.

The blood surged through Victor’s veins like a swell of the tide, and he took hold of Yuuri’s face in between his hands, returning the kisses with heated fervor.  The cadence of his heart grew quicker and quicker, rising in its intensity, and Victor pulled Yuuri closer until they laid chest to chest.

“Victor, wait…” Yuuri mumbled, “I’m going to crush you….”

“You won’t,” Victor insisted, moving his hands from Yuuri’s cheeks to his hair.  “You’re fine, sweet love….”

Yuuri responded with a sound that was stuck between a chuckle and a whine of protest.  Still, he held himself up just enough to keep from laying all his weight on Victor.  Victor wrapped one arm around Yuuri’s waist and pulled him down, insistently, and Yuuri finally conceded.  The weight of him, the closeness, the breathlessness in Victor’s lungs:  all sensations become one, mixing into the same feeling that had consumed Victor last night.

He hadn’t gone to Yuuri’s room intending to take things that far.  Yuuri’s inexperience was obvious to a man like Victor.  But the tangling of their breath and skin had released something in Yuuri, and he had spoken his desire to Victor in the effortless language of his own body.  Yuuri was speaking that same tongue again, learning the words and the questions as he went.

Victor wanted Yuuri.  He wanted him so badly it hurt.  He wanted to lay him down in his captain’s bed, while the ship creaked and rocked around them, and create a harbor of warmth for Yuuri and Yuuri alone.  He wanted to cut himself open wide enough for Yuuri to take root inside him, to fill the deep, screaming void in Victor’s heart.

But was he worthy of such a thing?  Did he deserve solidity, the unswaying devotion of an innocent man?  Had he done enough?

“ _Ow_ ,” Yuuri whispered sharply.  Victor realized that he had wrapped both arms around Yuuri and was squeezing the still fresh gunshot wound.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri, it was an accident!” Victor exclaimed, releasing his hold as quickly as if the blood had burned him.

“No, no, it’s all right,” Yuuri replied.  Even so, the moment was already gone; Yuuri sat up and crawled off Victor.  Victor could see him retreat back into himself as he did so, gently hugging his elbows against his chest.

Victor sat up and looked at him, a small, quiet shadow.  He reached out and tucked Yuuri’s hair behind his ear.  “You should probably head home and get some rest,” Victor suggested softly.  “Take it easy at work tomorrow.”

Yuuri nodded.  There was a heavy beat of silence before he looked up at him and asked, “Can I come by again tomorrow?”

“Of course, my dear heart,” Victor said with a smile.  “You can always come to me, no matter what.”

 

Christophe watched Victor with judgmental eyes as he came down from the lighthouse cliff.  Yuuri had headed home already, and Victor was dreading the words that were sure to come out of Christophe’s mouth.  He pretended not to notice that anything was amiss as he walked up to where Chris was leaning on the doorframe.

“I don’t know why you haven’t learned yet,” Chris said, shaking his head at Victor’s stupid grin.  “When does this ever end well for you, Victor?”

“If I gave up every time I failed, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”  He grinned wider as Chris rolled his eyes; that line always got a rise out of him.

“I’m tired of seeing your dumb ass get hurt.  And you and I both know it’s coming.”

“Not this time.  Don’t give me that look, damn you, _not this time_!”

“ _Victor_!” Chris shouted, reaching out and grabbing the front of Victor’s vest with one hand.  “Do you think I don’t know what I’m talking about?!  When you leave, he’s not going to wait for you!”

Victor gripped Chris’s wrist, meeting his flame-green eyes with an indignant gaze.  In the dying sunlight, a glimmer shone out of the corner of Victor’s eye.

_Ah.  That’s right._

Victor put his hand over Chris’, over the smooth white gold of the single ring on his finger, and gently coaxed the man’s grip free.  “Chris…” Victor whispered, still holding onto his hand, “I’m not leaving him.  I can’t.”

“Then you’re choosing one man over your entire crew, and everything you’ve built!”  Christophe’s shout could have carried all the way up to the road.  The accusation echoed into the night air, repeating in Victor’s ears over and over as it faded.

Victor swallowed, a painful motion.  “Listen,” he said, staring down at the sand.  “Don’t you think I know all this?”

“I honestly wish I could say that I did.”

“Well, if you believe anything my dumb ass has to say,” Victor replied with a crooked, bitter smile, “believe that I know…I can’t abandon you.”  He paused.  “I can’t abandon the boys, or the crew.  You know I can’t, Christophe.”

The fire in Christophe’s eyes flickered out, and the coolness of the sea air gusted between them.

“I can’t leave him, either,” Victor continued, his voice wretched and strained.  He squeezed Christophe’s hand hard enough to bring pain surging into his own joints.  “Please believe that too.”

There was such a long stretch of silence before Chris replied that Victor at first thought he hadn’t heard him.  “Victor…” Chris sighed.  “You’re going to kill yourself like this.”

_I know.  Don’t you think I know that?_

 

Yuuri sat in the yard, just outside the kitchen door, and washed dishes for hours.  It was a simple, constant task that never failed to distract him from the hell of his own mind.  It was an easy cycle.  Mari would come outside with a basin full of dirty pans and dishes, and Yuuri would give her another basin of clean ones.  Every half hour, she appeared, her face red and sweat darkening the bandana holding back her hair.  It was a back and forth that needed no words and no real focus.

He moved a little slower tonight than he could have.  Washing dishes could only distract from the pain of the bullet wound so much, and too much movement might cause blood to soak straight through the bandage and Victor’s shirt.  Yuuri had no energy to come up with a lie for it tonight, in that event.  These days, he tried to keep an emergency story tucked away in the back of his mind, just in case.

Yuuri sighed:  he was a liar now.  A person who kept secrets from his family, who created walls to thicken the separation between him and his loved ones.  Victor hadn’t made him this way; Yuuri had chosen it.  It made his stomach churn with nervous sickness.  He wondered which would hurt his mother worse when the façade was finally broken:  his deceit, or the fact that her son had laid down with a criminal.

The stream of dishes didn’t last long enough.  Before he had fully entered the trancelike state that made hours pass like minutes, Mari came to get his basin of dishes and had nothing to give him in return.  Yuuri leaned back and stared up at the blackened blue sky, sparkling with flecks of light that shone like sequins glittering in a dim room.

“Hey, Yuuri?”

Yuuri, with some difficulty, tore his gaze away from the stars, and saw Minami standing before him.  He looked nervous, fidgety, and he couldn’t quite look Yuuri in the eye.

“Minami,” Yuuri replied.  His voice sounded hollow.  “What’s up?”

“I want to ask you something,” Minami blurted out.  He finally looked up and held Yuuri’s gaze, his face lightly blushing as if the motion were physically exerting.  “I don’t want you to think that I’m saying something that I’m not, though, so I want to be very clear.”

Yuuri nodded.  “That’s fair.  What is it?”

Minami took a huge breath.  “First of all, it’s not like I was spying or anything.  I saw it all by accident.  But….”  He paused, biting his bottom lip.  “Last night, I was taking out the trash, and I saw somebody kind of hanging around in the alley across the way there.”  He pointed at the darkened space between the adjacent houses.

Yuuri nodded again, slower.  His chest felt cold.  He didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not when he was already so tired.

“I didn’t really think anything of it, and I came out later and he was gone, but….”  Minami lowered his voice.  “I wasn’t spying.”

“Minami, what are you trying to tell me?”

“Your window was open, Yuuri, and I could hear you…you were talking to somebody.”  Minami’s face flushed a brighter red, and he visibly steeled himself and asked, “Yuuri, are you—do you have—do you have a secret boyfriend!?”

Yuuri blinked, completely taken aback.  Minami was staring at him with intense eyes and an even more intense blush.  It was clear that it had taken absolutely all of his courage to ask this.

Without meaning to, Yuuri burst out laughing.  He tried to stop himself as he saw the devastated look on Minami’s face.

“Minami,” Yuuri said between giggles, “that’s a bit of a logical leap, don’t you think?”

“No, it’s not!” Minami insisted.  “Yuuri, I’ve noticed something different about you lately.  It’s obvious you’re seeing somebody!  Even Miss Mari thinks so!”

“Mari does?”  Now Yuuri was blushing.

“And—and if you are then…then of course I’m happy for you but….”  Minami clenched his hands into fists and stared down at the grass.  The last flicker of amusement left Yuuri’s chest when he saw how Minami’s hands were trembling.

“But why are you hiding it?” Minami whispered.  “Don’t you think we would all be happy for you?”

Yuuri tried to smile at him, and the corners of his lips only barely stayed up.  “Minami, I appreciate your concern—”

“I want you to be happy!”  Minami walked forward and grabbed Yuuri’s hand.  “And if the person you’re seeing is no good, or if he ever hurts you or makes you cry, promise you’ll tell me!”

He looked so serious, his words reverberating with the war being waged in his heart, that Yuuri hated himself just a little bit more.  He put his other hand atop Minami’s and squeezed gently.

“I promise, Minami,” he said.  He almost believed it.  “In fact…you don’t have to worry.  It might actually not work out.”

“Is it because of something he did?”

Yuuri shook his head.  “Nothing like that.  Sometimes it just…can’t go on.  And it’s nobody’s fault.”

Minami nodded and stared down at their entwined hands.  Yuuri saw the glisten of fiercely repressed tears in the boy’s eyes.  “I regret not saying anything to you sooner,” he said with a strained voice.  “But I still care about you.  And I’ll still protect you, if you ever need me to.”

“…I know, Minami.”  Yuuri patted him on the head and smiled.  “I know you will.”

 

Today was the day of Satsuki’s last fitting.  After this, the dress would just need the final adjustments, and it would be complete.  It hardly seemed real that it was already nearly over.  Yuuri had grown so used to devoting all his time to it, that the thought of going back to the same old repair work was almost unbearable.  He half-hoped that Morita would commission another dress from him, but he wasn’t going to count on it.

Yuuri arrived at work early.  He hadn’t slept at all last night, not with the pain of the bullet wound keeping him awake.  The swelling storm of anxiety over his conversation with Minami and the thought of losing Victor did not help.  Not even the fact that he would be seeing Victor later in the day made him feel any better.  Going to Victor’s house meant seeing the crew again, a reminder of the life Yuuri had taken from him.  A reminder of the fact that there was no place for Yuuri in it.

He unlocked the front door to the shop and stepped into the quiet dimness.  This early in the morning, there wasn’t much activity in this area of Hasetsu.  It was a comforting, liminal silence.

He left the curtains closed for now; he’d open them up closer to the shop’s proper opening.  Yuuri settled in at his work table in the back room and pulled open the curtains there, just for the light.  The alleyway across the street was dark, almost black, and Yuuri smiled as he remembered when Victor told him he’d used to stand there and watch him work.  He’d said it like an apology, but it had only made Yuuri fonder of him.  To think that a pirate captain could be scared to talk to Yuuri, of all people, was almost too absurd to not laugh at.

Yuuri worked on some repairs for about half an hour before he heard the bell on the front door ring.  He thought nothing of it; Minako came in early some days too.  It was only after there was an ensuing five minutes of silence that Yuuri grew curious.  She at least always let him know she was there.

Yuuri poked his head out the workroom door and called, “Minako?  Is that you?”

“Good morning, Yuuri!”

Yuuri just about jumped out of his skin.  It was Morita, standing in the center of the dress shop, waving at him.

“Oh…good morning,” Yuuri breathed with relief.  At least it wasn’t a robber.  The relief, however, was quickly replaced with wariness.  He stepped out into the shop and shut the door behind him.  “What brings you here so early?”

“I was just on a morning walk,” Morita replied.  “The mornings are beautiful here by the seaside.”  He walked closer to Yuuri as he spoke.  His wide, white-toothed smile was the only bit of brightness on his otherwise monotone suit.  He was always a sharply dressed man, if not a bit minimal.

“And I was passing by the shop,” he continued, “and much to my surprise I see you in the window!  So I thought I’d come say hello.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said.  Morita was standing close to him now.  The wariness did not recede; in fact, Yuuri’s heartrate was speeding up.  “That’s…very thoughtful of you.”

Morita chuckled and smiled at him.  His eyes were fixed on Yuuri’s own:  had they always been that piercing and intense?

“You know, Yuuri,” Morita said, lowering his voice a bit.  “I’ve had a great time watching you work these past couple of weeks.  Satsuki won’t stop talking about how excited she is.  You’ve really exceeded all my expectations for you.”

Yuuri forced a crooked smile.  “Thank you,” he murmured, because what else could he say?

“It would really mean a lot to me if you would come by for dinner one night.  I know you’ve refused in the past because you’ve been busy, but now that you’re nearly finished, you’ve got time, don’t you?”

“I guess so.”  Yuuri’s eyes flicked over to the front door.  He’d never prayed so hard for Minako to appear.  There was almost no space between him and Morita now.  Yuuri could smell the coffee on his breath and the freshness of his newly pressed clothes.  It nauseated him.

Morita laughed, utterly oblivious of the discomfort radiating off every inch of Yuuri’s body.  Oblivious, or simply indifferent.

“Great!” he said.  “How about tonight?  Right after work?”

It was out of the question.  Yuuri needed to talk to Victor tonight.  “I’m sorry,” Yuuri replied, his heart pounding.  “I have to meet someone.”

Yuuri was overcome with the need to see Victor right this minute.  It grabbed him up like a sudden swell of hollowness.  Victor was not here, and Yuuri was not with him.  It was wrong.  Yuuri needed him desperately.

“A-actually,” Yuuri said, reaching behind him to grab the door handle to the work room.  “I’m not feeling too well this morning—I’m sorry, but I need to leave right now.”

He didn’t even care that he was risking offending a very generous commissioner.  He didn’t care that Minako would find out, that he was about to ruin the pretense he’d constructed with such painful effort.  Everything had already crumbled in his mind.  Yuuri didn’t know anything; all he knew was that he wanted Victor, and he wanted him now.

Yuuri ignored whatever Morita said in response to him and ducked back into the work room.  He grabbed his bag and ran out the back door.  Instead of his usual, roundabout path down to the beach, he took the main road, dashing past the shops and the people.  Every second that he was away from Victor burned him from the inside out.

He had already sent Victor away once.  He wouldn’t do it again.

Yuuri nearly stumbled over his own feet as he threw himself at Victor’s door, pounding heavily with his fist.  “Victor!” he called.  His voice was surprisingly steady for what chaos was within him.  “Victor!!”

Nothing but silence.  For an instant, Yuuri’s whole body turned frigid.

_He left already.  He left without saying anything, without telling me so I couldn’t tell him not to…._

“No,” Yuuri muttered, pounding at the door again, louder, harder.  “No….”

Silence again was the only response.  He hit the door with the flat of his hand, slumping against it and crumpling to the ground.  Why hadn’t he said anything sooner?  Why hadn’t he known that Victor might do this…?

A bark sounded in the distance.  Yuuri looked up to see Makkachin running down the hill towards him, tongue and ears flapping as she went.  Just as quickly as his heart had plummeted, Yuuri felt his spirits lifting again.

“Makkachin…” he said as she barreled into him, licking and wagging her tail.  Yuuri tried to pet her, but she pulled away and barked again.  She began to run back towards the hill, pausing every few feet and turning back to stare at him.

Yuuri got to his feet and ran after her.  He couldn’t think, could barely breathe.  The tangy sea air felt heavy in his lungs as he climbed the hill.  Beneath the lighthouse, Victor stood quietly, staring out to sea.  The other three pirates were with him.  Yuuri had to dig deep to dredge up their names, so focused was he on just getting to Victor.  After some difficulty, he remembered:  Christophe, the first mate, and Yuri and Otabek, the two that had nearly killed him the day before.  All three stood along the edge of the cliff, looking out at the horizon.

Yuuri ran up behind Victor and grabbed his arm.  As if breaking out of a trance, Victor jumped and whirled around.

“Yuuri,” he breathed.  He grabbed Yuuri to his chest, squeezing painfully hard.  “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Yuuri replied.  He gently wriggled out of Victor’s grip.  “What’s—what’s going on?”

Before even finishing his question, he saw the answer.

Far on the horizon, small enough to be miles away but large enough to recognize, a lone ship struggled towards the port.  The flag it flew was tattered, torn almost in half.  Most of the sails were not any better.  It sailed with a slight list to one side as it limped home in defeat.

“We’ve been watching all morning,” Chris told Yuuri with a soft, resigned voice.  “It’s the only one.”

Yuuri knew the size and shape of the military frigate Takeshi had sailed out on weeks ago.  When the fleet left, there had been five.  Yuuri’s inside went ice cold like a blizzard raged within him.  Takeshi _had_ to be on that boat.  He had to be.  What would Yuuko do all alone without him?  What would his girls do?

Yuuri was only dimly aware of Victor taking his hand.  They watched, in grave silence, as the ship continued its hours-long journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor aren't having a great couple of days.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Sorry I haven't responded to everyone's comments yet, I promise I'll get to it soon <3
> 
> Let me know what you think with a comment, and come visit me at my my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! So sorry for the long hiatus, there's been a lot going on in my personal life. I've brought you a super-extra long chapter this time though and I really think you guys will like this one so please enjoy! <3

_“Take me to the docks, there's a ship without a name there_  
 _And it is sailing to the middle of the sea_  
 _The water there is deeper than anything you've ever seen_  
 _Jump right in and swim until you're free_  
  
_I will remember your face_  
 _'Cause I am still in love with that place_  
 _But when the stars are the only things we share_  
 _Will you be there?”_

_\- “Atlas Hands”_

 

The whole town was wound tight with shared anxiety as the frigate made its slow way into port.  Many had already given themselves over to panic.  Many more busied themselves with preparing as many beds as possible in the doctor’s clinic.  There was no telling how many were dead, what types of injuries or sicknesses they would be faced with; the only choice was to prepare for everything.  Hasetsu had more than one doctor in town, but only one who was able to perform surgery.

It was past noon when the ship finally came in.  Fishing boats had sailed out to take the injured back to shore.  The port was in a tensely controlled mania, and the marketplace was closed to everybody except those who were helping with the infirm.

Yuuri knew it could be hours, maybe even days, before all the dead were accounted for.  So he focused his attention on the living, and went to Yuuko’s side.

She had always been strong.  This sort of thing was always going to be a possibility for as long as she was married to a sailor.  Like all the other such women in town, Yuuko made all the necessary charms for Takeshi, prayed the correct prayers for his safety, performed the ages-old rituals to beg the sea’s mercy and return her loved one home just one more time.  Takeshi’s death was always on her mind in some way.  Yuuri always thought it was sad, maybe even a little morbid, to spend so much energy on something that was, ultimately, out of anyone’s control.  But it was necessary.  Yuuko would never have built up her strength to this degree without it.

Yuuri found her outside of the doctor’s house, which was locked and guarded against any but the most essential visitors.  Yuuko was trying to peek in through the window, looking for any sign of her husband.  When Yuuri approached her, Yuuko’s eyes were dry and weary.

All day, Yuuri stayed with her at home, helping with her chores, her children, anything at all that she needed.  They didn’t talk about Takeshi.  They both knew speculation was useless, just another source of unneeded stress.

Almost endlessly, Yuuri’s thoughts were consumed by Victor.  He hadn’t seen him or any of the crew since early this morning.  Christophe had mentioned something about going down to find out as much of the story as he could, and Otabek had said he might be able to talk his way into the doctor’s house and help with what little medical knowledge he had.  In the town’s hour of dire need, it was unlikely that anyone would think too hard on exactly where Otabek had come from.

Victor had told him what kind of pirates there were out there.  Someone that even Victor seemed concerned about.  And if they were able to do something like this, decimate an entire military fleet down to a single ship, there was no telling what might come next.  Hasetsu would never survive something like this again.

_Victor might be the only one who can do anything,_ was the thought Yuuri kept having.  But then it might be him next time, and Yuuri would be the one waiting, busying himself with meaningless tasks as he waited to hear if the person he loved was alive or dead.

It was nightfall when they finally got a knock on the door.  Yuuko leapt up and threw the door open.

“Nishigori?” asked the man who stood outside.  He looked an absolute wreck, and Yuuri could see how bloodshot his eyes were from across the room.

“Yes,” Yuuko replied, nodding.

“Congratulations, you’re one of the lucky ones,” the man said with a dry grin.  “Come with me.  You can have a quick visit with your husband.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Yuuko exhaled, her knees nearly buckling.  “Oh, Takeshi!  He’s really—?”

The man nodded, and for the first time today, Yuuko began to cry.

Yuuri stayed with the babies as Yuuko followed the man to the doctor’s house.  The girls had been good all day, giving their mother minimal trouble.  Almost as if they knew what was going on, as if they sensed their mother’s need for strength.  They were sleeping now, as they had been for several hours.  Yuuri made a pot of tea for him and Yuuko for when she got back.

Yuuko returned sooner than Yuuri expected.  She’d only been allowed a fifteen minute visit with Takeshi, as there were many people waiting to see their loved ones, and only so much space at the doctor’s.

“He’s alive,” Yuuko said with tears in her eyes and a smile Yuuri hadn’t seen since her wedding day.  She took a sip of tea from her cup, and Yuuri could see the tension leaving her like the slow wisps of steam along the surface.

“Is he badly hurt?” Yuuri asked.

Yuuko paused before answering.  “He was shot in the leg.  …They weren’t able to do much with it on the way back, so they’re trying to keep it from going septic.”  She smiled.  “But he says that he’s fine.  You know how he is.”

Yuuri smiled back, mostly to reassure her.  “Yeah.  I’m glad he’s all right.”

He wanted to ask her more, but he knew that she wouldn’t have answers.

_What happened?_

_How many are dead?_

_Who attacked them?_

_Are the pirates headed here now?_

Yuuri drank the rest of his tea in silence with Yuuko, but the heat of liquid in his throat did nothing to calm his nerves.  If anything, it was like swallowing his own panic.

Yuuko nearly collapsed from exhaustion afterward.  He helped her to her room and told her if she needed anything, he would be there for her.  Once she had crushed him with more hugs than Yuuri could take—but appreciated nonetheless—he left her house and headed down to the beach.

When he arrived at the lighthouse, the tower’s light was shining brightly out into the water.  Victor’s house’s lights were dimmed.  Yuuri tapped gently at the door and heard the hasty clacking of Makkachin’s claws against the wooden floor.  Victor opened the door, and upon seeing Yuuri standing there, simply smiled and held out his arms.

Yuuri fell into them like a sigh of relief.  He was tired, so tired, he wanted everything to fall away and be silent for just a moment.  None of the crew were in the house, no doubt sneaking around Hasetsu in just the way Yuuri hoped they wouldn’t, but he found that he didn’t care.  If they could help in any way, then let them.  Yuuri couldn’t control anything.  He wasn’t sure why he ever tried to.

It was just him and Victor and Makkachin in the dark house.  Victor wore his plain white shirt, soaked through with his scent and his warmth, and Yuuri turned his face into Victor’s shoulder and breathed in deep.  The aroma went to his head, clearing the dust, and down into his lungs, widening and sweetening the expanse of his chest.  Yuuri could have fallen asleep standing here, with Victor holding him up, the darkness keeping them safe from the world that spun too fast.

Victor placed his hand on Yuuri’s forehead and pushed his bangs back and away, then pressed a long, long kiss there.  “My darling, I’ve missed you.”

Victor’s voice was the same.  It was familiar.  Yuuri hadn’t lost this yet.  It would all be okay.

Yuuri smiled at him.  “Takeshi’s alive,” he said.  “Yuuko saw him.  He’s going to be all right.”

“I’m glad.”  Victor kissed him again, on the lips this time.  He gently led Yuuri over to the bed and sat him down.  Makkachin leapt onto the mattress and placed her head in Yuuri’s lap.  Yuuri began scratching her ears as Victor went rifling through his cabinets for something.

“Where is everybody?” Yuuri asked.  The house had a strange glow to it, lit only by the lighthouse through the windows, not quite reaching the walls.

“Christophe has been helping the people down at the docks all day,” Victor replied.  “He really is quite good at blending in anywhere.  It’s that charming smile of his, I swear.”

Despite himself, Yuuri chuckled.

“Yuri doesn’t like to be anywhere without Otabek, so he tagged along with him to the doctor’s office.”

Victor found what he was looking for and came to sit beside Yuuri.  He held a half-full bottle of some type of liquor, which he uncorked and immediately took a drink from.  Yuuri didn’t recognize the smell of it; it had a more bitter scent to it than the sake that his parents served at the restaurant.  Victor took another, slightly longer gulp from the bottle, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Yuuri caught himself staring.  Victor smiled half-heartedly and held the bottle out to him.  “Do you drink?  Would you like some?”

“What is it?” Yuuri asked.  He sniffed at the bottle.

“Vodka.  It’s like a potato liquor.  A little piece of home.”  He paused conspicuously.  “Well, the place I was born, anyway.”

“Where is that?”

“Way up north and far to the west.  I haven’t been back in many years, but I like to think that someday I might be.”

“…I’d like to see it.”

Victor’s eyes lit up.  “Really?  It’s dreadfully cold.”

“I think it would be fun.”

Victor laughed.  “Maybe one day.  You and I can travel all around the world.”  He slung one arm over Yuuri’s shoulders and hugged him close.  “We’ll go discovering all the clothes and dresses there are to see.  I’ll paint, you’ll sew.  We’ll make beauty together.”

Yuuri smiled, but a crushing weight stamped down on him from deep inside.  His smile crumbled and fell away, and he wrapped his arms around Victor’s body.  Victor hugged him tighter, but Yuuri was leaning into him with all his strength, and soon Victor was tumbling backwards onto the mattress.  Makkachin hopped off the bed, affronted at being dislodged so rudely.  Yuuri reached for the bottle in Victor’s hand and took a quick, experimental swig.

It burned, and he coughed with the shock of it, quickly setting the bottle down on the floor.

Victor was laughing.  “Strong, isn’t it?”

Through his coughing and watery eyes, Yuuri nodded.

“I don’t know if I like it,” Yuuri replied, burying his face in Victor’s chest.  Victor laughed again and kissed the top of Yuuri’s head.

Yuuri swallowed and lifted his eyes.  Victor’s face was halfway cloaked in shadow, but Yuuri could trust that he was there, he could see his sharp blue eyes and sense the beautiful gaze that was within them.  Yuuri leaned forward and brushed his lips against Victor’s.  His breath tasted like bitter cold alcohol.

“Victor…” he whispered softly.  “I…don’t know what to do.”

“About what, Любимый?”

Yuuri hadn’t even known how close to tears he was until that moment.  He swallowed tightly, almost choking on the motion, and squeezed Victor’s body tighter, and hated everything, everything, everything.

“I just…” Yuuri said with a shaking voice full of weakness and ill resolve.  He looked at Victor’s eyes in the half-light.  “Victor, I love you.”

For some reason, of all the things that had happened for days and days, that was what sent the most tumultuous pain surging into Yuuri’s heart.

He loved Victor.  It hurt, how bad he wanted him, how everything made the clearest sense and yet no sense at all when they were together.  It hurt, how hard it all had to be, how every day brought another reason why they could never be, why they could never part.  It hurt, how the simplest solutions were the ones that wrought the most destruction.

It would be easiest if Yuuri didn’t love him.  If he hadn’t fallen for his smile, if he didn’t adore the artful work of his hands, if he never asked him to stay.

Yuuri put his face back into Victor’s chest and cried, cried because it was too hard, he wanted it so badly but there was no answer.  He felt Victor’s hand stroking his head, his fingers combing through his hair.  Yuuri held on and listened to Victor’s heartbeat, and hated this, and loved him.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, after some time had passed.  He coaxed Yuuri’s head back up and held his gaze.  “I’ve made you cry twice now.  You’ll have to tell me what I can do to stop that.”

“It’s not you, Victor,” Yuuri replied miserably.  “It’s just…I can’t bear to let you go again.”

“Who says you’re letting me go, love?”

“You have to.  After seeing what JJ and Guang-Hong are capable of…they’ll destroy Hasetsu, Victor.  And if I kept you here because I was selfish, it would be my fault.”

“That’s a lot of power you have.”  Victor pressed a kiss to the tip of Yuuri’s nose, and Yuuri smiled despite everything.  “But to me, there’s only one answer.”

Victor reached for Yuuri’s arm and pulled it free from where it entangled his body.  He kissed Yuuri’s fingers with soft lips.  “What would make you happy?”

Yuuri answered with the first thing that came to mind.  “This.”

Victor smiled.  “Then you shall have it.”

He took Yuuri’s face in between his hands and pressed their lips together.  Yuuri could feel Victor’s heartbeat speeding up underneath him, pounding and pulsing into his bones.  Yuuri gently licked the outside of Victor’s lips, then shoved his tongue deep into his mouth, tasting the burning aftertaste of vodka and Victor’s familiar breath.  Each time Victor exhaled, Yuuri breathed in the cloud of sweetness and grew lightheaded.

Victor was moving beneath him, and Yuuri let him adjust his body in whatever way he needed.  Though the bed was narrow, Victor managed to flip their positions with no trouble.  Yuuri felt dizzy when Victor placed him down on his pillow; Victor’s scent was suddenly stronger, his body heavier, and Yuuri’s mind absorbed every last detail and crease of Victor’s face.

It was like Victor was brand new all over again.  The things Yuuri knew, the secrets of Victor’s body, the hidden spots of his skin, they were all washed away.  This was something beyond all that.  Yuuri wanted it more than any earthly desire.  It was deeper, a type of hunger, primal and unknown.  He had no name for it, but the name was inconsequential.  He needed it, Victor was giving it to him, and that was all it was.

Yuuri reached the buttons on Victor’s shirt and slowly unfastened one.  Victor made no move to stop him, and Yuuri undid another.  With each one, Victor’s body heat burst out from beneath the cloth, warming Yuuri’s already heated fingers.  When he reached the end of the shirt, he swallowed nervously and looked into Victor’s eyes.  He was smiling, his eyes as clear as they had ever been as he waited patiently for Yuuri to continue.  Yuuri took a breath and pushed the shirt off Victor’s shoulders and down his arms.

The room was still dark, and everything felt like a lucid dream.  Yuuri realized now that he had never seen Victor’s body before, though he’d envisioned it often enough in the late private hours of the night.  What he saw now was nothing like anything his mind could have come up with.  It was, somehow, even better, and his breath hitched.

Victor’s chest was solid, lean muscle, his biceps like stone beneath the skin.  There were irregular scars all across his torso.  Many had healed and were nothing but raised pink lines of soft new flesh.  Some looked like old burns.  All of it was lovely.

There were old, sun-bleached tattoos across his chest, down his upper arms, and reaching across to his back shoulders.  Yuuri could barely take it all in.  Most of the tattoos were birds, feathers, and a harpy with a giant wingspan on his left shoulder.  On the opposite side was a mermaid with a blue-and-gold tail, the same colors as the harpy’s wings.  As Yuuri looked at them closer, he saw that the harpy clutched skulls in her talons, too many for her to hold, tumbling down into nothingness.  The mermaid, too, had skulls and bones floating about her in the water, one of which she held to her chest like her most treasured possession.

“Do you like them?” Victor asked, his voice soft and curious.

Yuuri touched them with reverent fingers, traced the soft lines of scars, and nodded.  “They’re beautiful.”

“I drew them myself,” Victor added with a prideful beam.  “It took me a year to find a tattoo artist I trusted with them.”

“Why didn’t you show me before now?”

Victor chuckled.  “I don’t know.  It’s not like I was hiding them.  But I guess I just wanted to surprise you one day.”

Yuuri let his fingers continue to drift along the scars, touching the burn marks gently.  Victor must have been in many battles to have received so many.  Each fight a victory.  Each battle won, and the spoils all his for the taking.  Yuuri wondered if he would ever get to see it.  The King of Gold in battle must be a wondrous sight indeed.

Before he could lose the nerve, Yuuri lifted his face and pressed a light kiss to the biggest scar, a ragged, lopsided X that began at Victor’s right shoulder and ended at his heart.  He knew that it must no longer hurt, but Yuuri was gentle with his lips anyway.  It was only fair.  Victor’s body deserved gentleness for all the pain it had absorbed.

He kissed the scar all the way down, placing the last and longest one just above Victor’s beating heart.  He could feel the pulse in his lips, and he lingered for the infectious feel of it.  When he pulled away, Victor’s chest was a great deal redder than it had been before.  Victor looked at a complete loss for words, like this was his first time as well, like he too had now stumbled into uncharted waters.

Well.  That was fine.  Neither of them were the type to balk at challenges, Yuuri knew.  He smiled shyly and took off his glasses, then tucked them under the bed by the bottle of vodka.

Victor surged forward like the rising tide and pressed a fierce kiss to Yuuri’s lips, pushing his head further down into the pillow.  Victor’s tongue broke into Yuuri’s mouth, filling it up with his breath and lust, and Yuuri inhaled deeply through his nostrils.  He didn’t want even an instant of lost contact.

Victor’s hands were at the hem of Yuuri’s shirt, and Yuuri gasped even as his lips remained overcome.  Victor was reaching up his shirt, rough hands on the sensitive folds of Yuuri’s stomach, and Yuuri was suddenly filled with terrible wanting and fear.  He went dizzy and hastily shoved Victor away.

Victor sat up, blinking down at him.  “What’s wrong?” he asked.  “I’m sorry, what did I do, love?”

“N-nothing, it’s just….”  Yuuri couldn’t look at him.

“I was too forward.”  Victor’s voice was like that of a guilty child.  “Forgive me.  We don’t have to do this.”

_I’m so stupid, I’m ruining this, I’m ruining it…._   “I-I don’t want you to….”  Yuuri swallowed down the heavy stone of imminent tears.  “I’m not….”  _I don’t look like you.  I’m ugly, Victor, don’t you get it?_   He glanced back up at Victor’s face.

Victor just looked at him, confused, and Yuuri knew he was blaming himself for Yuuri’s sudden outburst.  If he didn’t say something now to fix it, this moment would be gone and he would never, ever get it back.

“I’ve got…kind of a chubby body,” Yuuri murmured, as if this were revelatory information.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor replied, a slow, relieved smile spreading across his face.  “Do you think it bothers me?  I think you’re beautiful.”

Yuuri swallowed and averted his gaze again.  “If you say so….”

“If you don’t want me to see, then I won’t undress you.”

Yuuri paused, dredging up every last ounce of courage that had ever existed in him.  “I want you to, though.”

Victor blinked, and Yuuri cursed himself for being so cagey and confusing.

“What I mean is,” Yuuri continued, willing his voice and body to be still and steady, “I just don’t want to disappoint you when…when you see.  I wanted to warn you, that’s all.”

“Yuuri, it’s—”

“I’ve worried about it for a long time, but…but I’ve always _wanted_ you to see me, but you have to understand…no one else ever has.”  A short, nervous pause.  “But I want to.  I want to show you, and just you, and I want to feel what it feels like when someone else undresses me and…I actually think about it a lot.”

It wasn’t the whole truth.  What he _really_ wanted was for Victor to unlace the corset strings on the back of his blue silk dress, and carefully guide the sleeves off his arms, pull the wide, smooth skirt down over his hips and legs like he was unveiling a canvas of art.

Yuuri would never get that.  He knew it.  But this was close, and the details really didn’t matter.  Yuuri had never been beautiful, and he’d been all right with pretending in fake dresses and dark rooms, but now it was different.  He wanted Victor to look at him the way he’d seen so many men look at their brides over the years.

“Are you sure?” Victor asked, with a voice that said he hoped with all his heart that the answer was yes.

Yuuri nodded.  “I am.  Just…do it slowly, that’s all.”

Victor grinned, elated.  “Aah, you torture me so, Yuuri.”  He leaned down and kissed him, light and slow.

His hands went back to work beneath Yuuri’s shirt, and Yuuri shivered to feel the calloused, strong fingers tracing shapes across his stomach.  Victor moved back on the mattress and leaned down to be level with Yuuri’s torso.  Yuuri suppressed a moan when he thought of what else Victor could do in that position.  His body reacted quickly to the thought, and he watched with some mortification as Victor became aware of it and grinned at him.

Victor pushed Yuuri’s shirt up his body, pressing kisses with each new expanse of skin he uncovered.  Yuuri tried to shove away the embarrassment that threatened to ruin all of this, tried instead to focus on the way Victor nuzzled into his stomach.  He focused on Victor’s soft murmured words, the serene look on his face, the heightened blush across the bridge of his freckled nose.

When Victor reached Yuuri’s ribcage, Yuuri realized he was gripping the sheets beneath him.  He let out a breath, trying to relax and give himself over to Victor’s lips and hands.

Victor’s tongue lapped at the spot just above Yuuri’s naval, and Yuuri’s gasp caught in his throat.  Victor looked up with hooded blue eyes.  They held each other’s gaze silently, then Victor dragged his blazing hot tongue across the skin again.  Yuuri choked out a whine.

“Do you like that, дорогой?” Victor asked, voice thick and barely restrained.

Yuuri couldn’t nod fast enough.  Victor grinned, his face full of wicked mischief, and then he was shoving one arm underneath Yuuri’s body and lifting him closer to his lips.  With the other hand, he grabbed at the waist of Yuuri’s pants and tugged, just hard enough that Yuuri felt the fabric begin to slip away.

Victor laid the flat of his tongue on Yuuri’s stomach, right on the spot they’d discovered together, and dragged it up, long and slow and heavy, all the way up to his heart.  The fabric of Yuuri’s shirt was bunched up underneath his armpits, and he wriggled uncomfortably, wanting it gone.

_I want him to rip it off me._   Yuuri’s face burst into flame.  Where had such a thought come from?  He didn’t know, and didn’t care, but oh, the thought excited him beyond belief.  He wished this weren’t the shirt he’d have to inevitably wear home.  His practicality won out in the end, and he clumsily pulled the shirt off over his head.  In response, seemingly, Victor pulled harder at Yuuri’s pants until they were down over his hips.

Yuuri wished he’d go faster.  With each movement Victor made, Yuuri’s erection grew more strained, more demanding, painfully constricted beneath the fabric.  He wanted Victor to grab it, stroke him with his slim fingers and strong palm, do anything and everything that came to mind.  He wanted Victor’s mouth, teasing and masterful, taking him to heights he’d never dreamed of.  He wanted everything.

There was a sudden, sharp chafing on his legs as his pants came free, and Yuuri’s eyes flew open.  When had he closed them?  He was gripping the bedsheets and breathing like he’d run from one end of town to the other.  Sweat was gathering at the points where his skin touched the bed, and the room even seemed brighter.  Yuuri closed his lips, swallowed, and opened them again.

He was naked.  Victor could see him.  He was naked in Victor’s bed, underneath Victor, and something within him transcended.

His body was like something new.  Nobody had even seen it like this before, or wanted it, or done anything to it.  Victor’s hands moved with steady adoration across his skin, like he was measuring it, studying it, seeing it with the peculiar eyes of an artist.  Seeing things Yuuri could never see.  Moving in ways Yuuri didn’t understand.  Yuuri’s breath hitched, like the hiccups that proceeded tears, but he couldn’t be any further away from sorrow.  The excitement in his heart swirled and swelled and expanded to every inch of his insides.

Victor straddled him, his eyes moving over his body as he touched it with impossibly light fingers.  Victor was blushing furiously, a color that only deepened when he looked up to hold Yuuri’s gaze.

Yuuri could only smile.  Then, bubbling up from within, he laughed.

Victor leaned down for a kiss, and Yuuri wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.  Victor gently laid himself atop him and returned the embrace.  They laid there just like that, giggling and kissing, Victor holding onto Yuuri with gently shaking arms, and Yuuri letting the silver strands of Victor’s hands fall between his fingers.

After a while, their laughter subsided.  Victor pulled away and asked, “How do you feel, my love?”

“Good,” Yuuri replied.  He brought Victor’s ponytail over his right shoulder and combed his fingers through it, slowly, a little bit at a time.  Taken by a sudden impulse, he lifted the strands to his lips and kissed it.

Victor smiled and pressed his forehead gently against Yuuri’s.  “Do you want to see me too?”

Yuuri nodded, a strange motion with Victor so close, blushing up to his ears and all the way down to his toes.  He let go of Victor’s hair, smooth as fresh silk in his hands, and ran his hands over Victor’s shoulders, down over the scarred flesh of his back.  The leather of Victor’s pants felt forbidden in his grasp.  But Victor had said it was all right, hadn’t he?

“Can I?” Yuuri asked, whispering into the faint distance between their lips.

Victor murmured an affirmative sound and sat back.  Yuuri sat up as well; the room was oddly cold and alien.  He felt like a bird that had left its warm nest too soon.  He wanted to be back beneath Victor, consumed and heated and held.  With shaking fingers, he undid the button of Victor’s pants, then another.

He could already feel how hard Victor was.  He unfastened another button with a surge of pride.  Victor was hard for _him_.  Somehow.  Each loosening of fabric brought Yuuri closer to seeing it with his own eyes, after so many days of sneaking a glance, of imagining things that made him blush even in the middle of the day, of feeling it conspicuously pressed against him on the days they laid in the grass and held each other.

Victor lifted himself up on his knees to let Yuuri pull the leather down, and his cock came free, hard and thick and so…so much _bigger_ than Yuuri had imagined.  He swallowed in sheer intimidation.

He glanced up.  Victor didn’t laugh, or tell him to stop.  Rather, he looked…nervous?  Waiting for praise?  Approval?

What could Yuuri even say that didn’t sound ridiculous?  If he tried to speak now, he’d ruin this and say something imbecilic.

So instead, he wrapped his fingers around it and dragged his palm up the length of it, slowly, like he did for himself.  Victor made a noise somewhere in his throat, and Yuuri could see his muscles tensing ever so slightly.  Yuuri repeated the motion, feeling the skin of Victor’s cock tighten in his hands.  He touched his fingertips to the heavy weight of Victor’s sack, drawing a deep groan out of him.

Yuuri wanted to see more.  He pushed the leather pants further down over Victor’s hips, reached behind him, and brazenly grabbed Victor’s ass with greedy hands.  It was muscular, impossibly so, he’d never known such muscles were even there.  Victor was so solid, like a perfectly crafted statue.  Yuuri squeezed and leaned forward to press his face into Victor’s chest.  He breathed his musky scent, sweat mixing with sea salt mixing with the ghost of perfume that Yuuri could still detect if he tried.

He felt Victor’s arms around him and a kiss pressed to the top of his head.  Yuuri pushed his hands down beneath the leather wrapped around Victor’s legs and worked his pants further down.  He pushed it all the way to Victor’s knees, feeling the thickness of Victor’s thighs, imagining how it would feel to have those thighs wrapped around him.

“Yuuri,” Victor purred into his hair.  “Lay back for me.”

Yuuri nodded before kissing the scarred muscular chest in front of him.  With more than a little reluctance, he let go of Victor’s legs and laid back on the pillow.  From there, Victor seemed to tower over him.  Victor maneuvered his way completely out of his clothing and dropped the pants on the floor, atop the growing pile of discarded clothes.  Yuuri thought of how his shirt would smell like Victor when this was all over.

Victor looked down at him, a gentle smile spreading across his face.  And then he was moving back down atop Yuuri’s body, his mouth catching Yuuri’s lips, and Yuuri felt Victor’s cock pressed against his own.

Yuuri whined, a long, drawn-out whimper, and Victor’s tongue pushed into his mouth.  For a moment, Yuuri’s whole body went rigid, and he couldn’t move.  Victor’s hips rolled into his, cocks sliding against one another and sending electricity up every bone in Yuuri’s spine.  He moaned again, and found that one of Victor’s hands was entwined in his own, pushing back against the pillow.  Yuuri squeezed it and bucked his hips upward.

Victor exhaled heavily through his nostrils and pushed his tongue further into Yuuri’s mouth, against Yuuri’s tongue, and began to move.  He reached between them and gripped them together in one hand, pushed his hips down and forward, and Yuuri ached.  He spread his legs wider; he wanted Victor to be able to reach every part of him.  He wanted Victor to go faster, go harder.  But would it last?

Yuuri turned his head, releasing himself from Victor’s voracious kisses.  “Victor,” he breathed, surprised at how difficult it was to keep his voice from trembling.  “Would you…?”  He had nearly forgotten how to speak.  He touched his neck with his free hand, hoping that Victor would understand.  “Here?”

Victor didn’t need to be told twice.  He was immediately at the soft flesh of Yuuri’s neck, and the shudder that rocked through Yuuri’s body was almost painful in its intensity.  Yuuri gasped, louder than he’d meant to, and gripped the back of Victor’s neck.  Victor’s teeth were scraping against his skin, nibbling like a possessive animal.  He licked and sucked in equal measure, and all the while he let his cock rub up against Yuuri’s, his scarred, beautiful, heavy body holding Yuuri pinned.  Yuuri loved it.  He could barely move, though Victor would surely let him up if he asked.  But in this moment, he was Victor’s.

The strands of Victor’s hair stuck to Yuuri’s sweat-covered shoulder as he thrust harder and harder.  Yuuri couldn’t stop the moans from coming constantly now, quiet but desperate whimpers that begged for release and begged for it to last.  He heard himself speaking broken fragments of Victor’s name, and he heard Victor groaning deep into his skin.

A heavy, deep-throated cry burst out of Victor’s mouth, and he pulled himself away from Yuuri’s neck.  He looked down at Yuuri as he began to move faster.  Yuuri held his gaze, unable to look away, knowing that in this moment he was the only thing Victor wanted, the only thing on his mind.  His expression was pointedly focused, his mouth open as large puffs of air escaped his lips, his hair rumpled and full of sweat.  It took a moment for Yuuri to realize that Victor was repeating his name, over and over and over.

The keen rose up in Yuuri’s throat slowly, pushed out by Victor’s hasty thrusts, and it burst free as the climax drowned him.  He gasped and exhaled all at once, his body suddenly slicker, and all the while Victor never slowed.  Victor wrung out pulses long past the point Yuuri could have thought possible, the waves cresting up and crashing back down.  He wanted to cry.  It felt like nothing Yuuri had ever done to himself, late at night, safe in his own little bed.  What he’d felt before was a pale imitation of this, something he could never name.

When Yuuri’s breath ran out and his muscles shut down, Victor groaned with a noise that made Yuuri’s heart flutter in his chest.  Victor dropped his forehead atop Yuuri’s and thrust with a rapidly decreasing pace, Yuuri’s name dissolving in his mouth into voiceless breaths.

Everything between them was hot and wet.  The blankets stuck to Yuuri’s skin beneath him, beads of sweat rolling off his body and surely staining the bed.  For several silent moments, they said nothing, did nothing, thought of nothing.  What they’d done faded away like a distant dream, a memory that didn’t quite exist the same as the real world.  Slowly, the world became not Victor’s body, but Victor’s bed, Victor’s house, broken light streaming in through the windows.  Pirates on the horizon.  An injured friend.  A lover that Yuuri would have to let go.

Victor lifted his head and smiled at him.  Yuuri smiled back.  For now, despite everything, it was okay.

They kissed, soft and slow and chaste.  “Are you all right, my love?” Victor asked quietly.

“Yes,” Yuuri replied.  “I’m all right.”

 

Later, when Victor had cleaned them both up, and Yuuri had gotten over the mortifying realization that Makkachin had witnessed the whole thing, they lay in each other arms beneath the blankets.  Yuuri laid his head on Victor’s pectoral muscles, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.  Victor had one arm slung around Yuuri’s shoulders and was holding him tight against him.  Yuuri allowed himself to close his eyes and doze a bit.  Out here on the beach, the sound of the harbor bells was much clearer.

They decided, together, that Victor should return to his ship and ensure the safety of Hasetsu.  Just for now.

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri mumbled, keeping his eyes closed.

“Hmm?”

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

“Of course I will, my darling.  As soon as I’ve dealt with JJ and Guang-Hong, I’ll be right back here with you.”

Yuuri opened his eyes and saw Victor smiling at him.  “Yeah?  And then what?”

“Then, it’s whatever you want, Yuuri.  I happily give my life over to you.”

Yuuri giggled.  “I could never do that to you, Victor.  You don’t like rules.”

“Rules are fine, as long as they’re what I already want to do.”  Victor grinned cheekily and kissed Yuuri’s forehead.

Yuuri laughed and shuffled closer to Victor’s body.  It was strange, how normal it felt to be naked in his bed beside him.  The very idea of having this all the time was what seemed impossible.  But maybe, somehow, they could get there one day.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Yuuri said.  “To the city.  Or where you were born.  It doesn’t matter.”

“I would like that.”

“So you better not die out there, do you understand me?”

“I have a one hundred percent survival rate,” Victor replied with a wink.  “I am unkillable.”

“Good.”  Yuuri turned his head and kissed Victor’s chest.  An idea came to him, and he sat up.  Victor whined and took hold of Yuuri’s wrist.

“Where are you going?” he pouted as Yuuri dug through the pile of clothes for his shirt.  He slipped it on, then went to where his bag lay beside the door.  After finding what he was looking for, he came back to bed and tucked himself back up beside Victor.

“So…” Yuuri began, his heart buzzing in his chest.  “Whenever Takeshi goes out to sea, Yuuko gives him a good luck charm to make sure he’s safe…it has to be handmade, and you have to spend at least a week making it, otherwise it’s no good.”  He locked eyes with Victor, hoping he was making sense.  “I want to give you one too.”

Victor grinned.  “I do love a bit of luck.”

Yuuri opened his hands, revealing the small ribbon of blue silk, the last piece he’d saved from way back then.  It had stayed in his bag as a reminder; he had never had a plan for what he was going to do with it.  Now, it seemed there was no better option.

“It’s not much,” he mumbled, “and it’s not pretty.  But…it’s important to me.  I know you’ll take care of it.”

Victor touched the ribbon in Yuuri’s hands, slowly, almost as if he shouldn’t.  “It took you a week to make this?” he asked.

Yuuri snorted an unattractive laugh.  “Well…sort of.  Not this piece here, but what it came from took me a few months.”

“Oh?”  Victor drew his hand away and looked Yuuri in the eye.  “What did you make?”

The laugh died away as Yuuri realized exactly what he was about to tell Victor.  Something that he’d carried deep within himself for so long, that not even Minako knew about.  What would Victor say?

He swallowed, his throat dry, and he nervously wound the ribbon around his fingers.  “I was making a dress.”  A pause.  “Um…I never finished it.”

Victor frowned.  “Why not?”

Yuuri took in a breath and remembered the feeling of snipping away the blue silk that awful morning.  He kept his eyes on the silk as he told Victor everything, from the very first day he’d begun to save money for the fabric.  He told him how long it had taken, the countless nights, the innumerable experiments, the breakthroughs, the breakdowns, all the way up to the day they’d first met.  Victor had come to him only moments after he’d taken this last scrap for himself from the debris of the work room floor.

There was a heavy silence once his story was finished.  Yuuri dared not look Victor in the eye.  He inhaled, exhaled, and made the decision to reveal his most unspoken desire.

“The dress was supposed to be for me.”  He said it softly enough that Victor could choose to ignore it if he wanted.

Instead, Victor said, “I would love to see you in it.”

The world paused for an instant.  Yuuri blinked and lifted his gaze.  Victor was smiling at him, his eyes all fondness and love…and acceptance.  Yuuri’s face burned, and he felt emotion welling up into his throat.  Small tears formed at the corners of his eyes.

“Are you just…” he said, slowly, to minimize the shaking of his voice, “are you just saying that?”

“Not at all, Yuuri.  In fact…I’ll buy you more silk.  The exact same color and quality as the one you lost.  You should finish your dress.”

Yuuri pressed his lips together and curled himself closer to Victor.  He took in several deep breaths to hold the tears back.  “Okay,” he said, small explosions of joy setting off in his heart.  “I’ll have it done by the time you get back.”

 

Christophe, Yuri, and Otabek came back to the shack late that night, about an hour after Yuuri had fallen asleep.  Victor jumped out of bed and shooed them out amid Yuri’s loud protests.  The commotion woke Yuuri, and with some embarrassment, he declared that he may as well head home.  The house was small, and there would be no real sense of privacy with the rest of the crew in there as well.  Victor knew he wouldn’t be able to change Yuuri’s mind about it, although he guessed that part of the reason was that Yuuri sensed Yuri and Otabek’s intense dislike of him.  In time, Victor would make sure they all had the opportunity to get to know each other properly.

Victor pulled his pants back on and watched Yuuri get dressed, smiling at his blushing giggles and mussed hair.  Victor hugged him close for a good long while, kissing his head over and over and touching his soft, round cheeks.  He put Yuuri’s glasses on him and kissed his lips, then opened the door to let him leave.

Yuuri scurried past Christophe and the boys, muttering a shy “goodnight” as he passed them.

“I can’t stay here now,” Yuri said, making a disgusted face.  “Just knowing you two fucked in here is making my skin crawl.”

“You’re more than welcome to sleep outside if you want,” Victor teased.  He playfully shoved Yuri’s head to one side as he walked past.  Not even Yuri’s cutting attitude could ruin this night for him.

“I hate to sour your afterglow,” Chris said with a smirk, “but we do need to let you know what we all found out today.”

“Ugh, can’t it wait until morning?”  Victor fell backwards onto his bed.  He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow that was still warm from Yuuri’s body.  It smelled of him, intoxicatingly rich.

“Afraid not.”  Chris grabbed Victor’s ponytail—tied with a new blue ribbon—and tugged it until he sat up.

“Yuuri and I already agreed that I would go with you all to hold back JJ and Guang-Hong.  That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Christophe blinked, an amused look in his eyes.  “Well…I’ll confess that that one surprises me.  But there’s still some things you need to know.”

Victor grumbled and reached under the bed for his bottle of vodka.  He took only one drink before Yuri swooped in and grabbed the bottle for himself.  Victor sighed but decided to let it go.  Yuri and Otabek retreated to a corner and began drinking what was left of the liquor.

Chris sat down on the bed next to him.  “It was a set-up.”

“What was?”

“The attack on the navy ships.  Hell, the whole thing, really.  Guang-Hong knew the ships were coming before they even left port here.  Some of the sailors who survived are saying that there were traitors on board that defected as soon as Guang-Hong’s ships ran them down.  They never had a chance.”

Victor frowned.  “That’s odd.  What was the point?”

“The biggest ships in the fleet were taken.  They belong to JJ now.”

“So if I’m understanding you right, the expedition was really just to hand those ships over to him?”  Victor touched his chin pensively.  “Who orchestrated all this?”

Christophe shrugged.  “Anybody that would have known that didn’t come back here.  They in all likelihood let just the one ship come back as a message.  You know the deal.”

Victor nodded, contemplating deeply.  “Hasetsu is too small to go to all that trouble.  They must be heading north.”

“That’s my guess too, but it’s hard to say.”  Chris leaned back on his elbows and sighed.  “Mila’s already bringing the ship down this way.  If I send word now, I can get Emil to bring _Marzanna_ out here too.”

“Yes, let’s do that.  How long until Mila gets here?”

“I had her gather up the crew at the same time me and the boys left to find you.  She won’t be too far behind by now.”

“All right.  Let’s be ready to go as soon as she arrives.”

Chris raised an eyebrow.  “You already told him you’re leaving, right?”

“Yuuri knows.”  Victor looked to Chris and smiled.  “But thank you for asking, my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for always sticking around and giving me your wonderful feedback and love. You're the best and I love each one of you! <3
> 
> Let me know what you think with a comment, and come visit me at my my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait, guys! Life has been a little crazy lately (I know I keep using that excuse too lol).
> 
> Please enjoy!!

_”I've got a lover_   
_And I'm unforgiven_   
_I'm such a fool to pay this price”_

_\- “Coming Down”_

 

Yuuri tried to face the next day as though it were the same as any other.  So much had changed, and the intensity of euphoria and devastation within him warred endlessly.  Victor was leaving, and he’d accepted that, and he could feel some semblance of security that Hasetsu would be safe.  Still, he wished he didn’t have to stay behind, and wait, and be useless.

_What would people say if I ran off with a pirate?_ Yuuri thought to himself as he checked the fit of Satsuki’s sleeves.  This was all to have been done yesterday, but with all that had happened, today was the true and final day of the commission.  He had agreed—at Minako’s insistence—to bring the completed dress to Morita’s house tonight, where Morita would treat Minako and Yuuri both to the dinner Yuuri had so often declined.  If Minako was with him, Yuuri knew he wouldn’t feel quite as strange around Morita.

The commissioner had never made him uncomfortable before, but ever since yesterday morning’s strange encounter, the discomfort had remained in the back of his brain.  Nagging him.  Forcing him to try to recall if Morita had ever displayed strange behavior before.  Yuuri’s attention had always been on the dress and on Satsuki, almost never speaking to her father except for a few questions.  If he had missed something, he had been missing it for a long time.

There were only minor adjustments to be made in the end.  Satsuki could barely contain her grin just knowing that her dress was almost within her grasp.  Despite everything, Yuuri was excited too.  It was hard not to be, knowing that his first personal client was happy.

Satsuki could only stay a short while, as she planned to have lunch with her cousin.  She left on her own, having grown accustomed to Hasetsu in the passing weeks, but Morita stayed behind.

“Yuuri, may I talk to you for a moment?” he asked, looking strangely nervous as he did.

“Of course,” Yuuri replied, mentally batting away the seizure of panic that gripped him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Minako at the front counter, accepting payment from a customer who had come to pick up some adjustments.  He kept her in his periphery as he kept his focus on Morita.

“Have you ever considered what your future might hold?”

Yuuri blinked.  “Um…in what way?”

“Well, with a talent like yours, you can’t expect to stay here in this obscure town forever.  That would be depriving the world of something truly great.”

“I mean…I _have_ thought of some of the fashion schools in the city, but…I’m afraid I just can’t afford it.  I also supplement my parents’ income with mine, so—”

“What if I paid?”

The breath caught in Yuuri’s chest.  For several dizzying seconds, he teetered between excitement and terror.  “I…” he murmured, if just to keep the silence from growing uncomfortable.

Morita chuckled.  “I know it’s a lot to spring on you at once.  How about you think about it, and let me know at dinner tonight?”

Yuuri could only nod, barely able to concentrate with the swirl of emotions inside him.

“I do mean it, you know,” Morita said.  He was closer now, Yuuri realized, and the man had taken hold of his hand.  Morita’s skin was freezing cold, as though he suffered from poor circulation, and his grip was just a bit too tight for Yuuri’s comfort.  He spoke with a low voice:  “I think you’re wonderful.”

“Th-thank you…” Yuuri whispered.  He tried to suppress the powerful urge to yank his hand back.

“I look forward to seeing you tonight.”  Morita released him and smiled.

 

Yuuri wished he could have had an hour with Victor before going to see Morita, but Minako whisked him away as soon as the shop closed for the day.

“It’s not like I was going to run away,” Yuuri mumbled as he carried the bagged dress down the street.

“I can never be too sure with you,” Minako teased him with a grin.  “It’s only one dinner, and they’re leaving in the next few days.  Besides, a night out is something you need.  Yesterday was hard on you.”

Yuuri wondered how Yuuko was getting along on her own.  He knew she had plenty of friends in town to help her until Takeshi was released from the doctor, but he still wished he could have gotten out of this dinner by going to see her.

Since Minako had already steered the conversation in this direction, Yuuri took the opportunity to ask her:  “Did you hear anything about what happened out there?  With the pirates?”

Minako sighed heavily.  “I heard rumors, lots and lots of rumors.  That’s about it.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes.  “You can tell me the truth, Minako.  I’m not a child.”

“I never said you were,” Minako replied, lightly bumping up against him.  “There’s just no need to unnecessarily worry yourself.”

“Is Hasetsu in danger?”  He watched her expression carefully.

She paused before answering him.  “Nobody can say for sure what the pirates will do.  What they did out there was crazy.  No one could have seen it coming.”  She sighed.  “It could be that they’re satisfied for now and won’t bother us again for a while.  Or it could be that they’ll get just more aggressive from here.  I don’t know which one is the more likely scenario.”

_Victor will protect us.  We’ll be safe._   He wanted to tell her, to assure her it would be fine, but he couldn’t.  For some reason, it ate at him.

 

The dinner, for what it was, was about what Yuuri expected.  Morita was there, along with Satsuki, and the bride whose dress had started it all.  Minako was better at socializing than Yuuri would ever be, but luckily she knew this, and did her best to make Yuuri feel like he wasn’t alone in a den of strangers.  Satsuki wanted to wear her new dress at dinner, but her father suggested against it.

“You wouldn’t want to spill any food on it your first day, would you?” he asked her.

“Can I at least put it on after dinner?” she asked with her usual small voice.

“Of course!” Morita said.  “You have to show everyone how beautiful you look.”

She grinned and agreed to that.

Yuuri wished nothing more than to spend the entire dinner drinking, for it at least untangled his nerves, but propriety held him back.  As they sat down to dinner, he concentrated deeply on his soup, only distantly paying attention to the conversation.  The bride—although she wasn’t a bride anymore, but Yuuri couldn’t for the life of him remember her name—was asking Satsuki something about her upcoming birthday, and Morita and Minako continued their usual reminiscence about the state of fashion in the city.  Yuuri tried to wrest his thoughts from Victor.

_Maybe tomorrow I’ll go buy some more blue silk,_ he thought to himself.  _That’ll make me feel better.  I promised him I’d be done with it soon._

When the main course came, the conversation turned abruptly onto Yuuri.

“So, Miss Okukawa,” Morita said casually, “do you think you could ever be convinced to give your apprentice up?”

Minako furrowed her brow curiously.  “In what way?  I mean, I don’t expect him to stay with me forever, if that’s what you mean.”  She turned and grinned at Yuuri.

“Yuuri and I were talking today,” Morita continued, “and I suggested the possibility of him attending school in the city.  He seemed very interested in the idea, weren’t you, Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s heart clenched.  He’d spent so long today worrying about Victor that he hadn’t given a single thought to Morita’s offer.  And yet, he _was_ interested in the idea…but he wanted to go with Victor, not Morita.  Victor had offered the same thing first, hadn’t he?  What was he supposed to say?  He shouldn’t—couldn’t—refuse, but he had to stay in Hasetsu.  He had to stay here and wait for Victor.

He bought himself a few seconds by taking a drink of warm sake.  “Uh…” he murmured weakly, “y-yes.  I would…I would like that a lot.”

Minako’s eyes and face lit up.  “Yuuri, that’s great!  Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”  She swatted him lightly on the shoulder.

“Well, I hadn’t made a decision yet.”  That was true enough, wasn’t it?

Now it was Satsuki’s turn to look excited.  “Are you coming to the city with us, Yuuri?”

Yuuri forced a smile for her.  “I’m…I’m leaning towards yes.”  _I can’t say no, after all, can I?_

“Wonderful!” Morita exclaimed.  “Of course, you can’t get a better teacher than Minako Okukawa, but there are more opportunities to be had for you elsewhere.  I only wish to help your talent flourish, Yuuri.”

The smile became harder to maintain, but Yuuri kept it up.  He took another sip of sake, and as the heat spread down into his lungs and stomach, he could only think of the sweet chill of Victor’s vodka.

The rest of dinner progressed with no further conversation involving him.

 

After the meal was complete—and Yuuri had to admit, the food had been closely on par with his mother’s—Morita suggested they go to the parlor while Satsuki put on her new dress.  Yuuri wished desperately to leave; the entire atmosphere of this place was like a persistent itch he couldn’t quite reach.  Against his better judgment, he asked for more sake to drink as he took his seat next to Minako in the brightly lit parlor.

The drink hit his stomach like a wave of nausea.  He wished he could have gone with Victor.  To have no ties to this place, no family to worry about, no Minako and no dress shop.  At the same time, he hated himself for even thinking that, for even considering for an instant that anything would be easier without all the people he loved.

_If Morita had come here before Victor, if I didn’t know any better, I would just accept his offer.  I would go with him to the city, and everything would be perfect._   Yuuri took another drink and exhaled loudly after swallowing.

Satsuki announced she was coming in from the hallway.  Yuuri looked up as she walked into the room, and felt a familiar sense of calm wash over him.

He’d seen her in the dress many times, through all its iterations and stages, even as lately as this morning, but there was something special about her in it now.  Now, the dress was really a dress, and it belonged to her and she belonged to it, and Satsuki wore a smile he’d never seen grace her face in all the time he’d known her.

The dress was mostly white, with the skirt falling to just below Satsuki’s knees.  Originally, she’d wanted for the sleeves to cover her whole arm to the wrist, but Yuuri had talked her down to elbow length instead, and he was glad she’d changed her mind on it.  The back of the dress laced up in the same corset style Yuuri had used for his own dress, though the green ribbon they’d picked out for this one ended in a large bow that hung down a few extra inches.  Yuuri had sewn the dress using mostly gold thread, just as he’d done for Victor’s vest, and the stitches reflected in the light of the room just subtly enough to be noticeable.  It wasn’t the most difficult—or even really most innovative—design Yuuri had ever come up with, but it was exactly what his client wanted, and for that alone, it was perfect.

Satsuki spun happily into the room, showing off the way the skirt billowed out around her.  Morita looked as though he would cry, and he kept repeating how beautiful she was and how she had grown.  Satsuki turned around and around, pointing out little details on the dress to everyone in the room, even to Yuuri, though he knew them all.  She spoke probably more words in this moment than Yuuri had ever heard from her, and all the while, the tight paralysis around his heart eased.

If he went to the city, went to school, apprenticed with someone, maybe he could have this all the time.  He could have a hundred Satsukis, and he’d make each one of them happy, give them all this moment of showing a loved one their unrestrained glee and beauty.

_I want that too_.  The thought crawled its way up through the haze of alcohol and crushed the smile from his face.

 

Yuuri was fated to suffer another hour before Minako announced that they should be going.  By now, Yuuri was trying to hide the fog of tipsiness that had eclipsed his mind, and he was regretting his decision to have as much alcohol as he did.  Nevertheless, soon he would be free.

Or at least, so it seemed.

“Yuuri,” Morita said as everyone made their preparations to leave.  “Might I have a quick word with you before you go?  I promise it won’t take but a minute.”

Yuuri glanced over to Minako, who was yawning loudly.  It would look rude if he asked her to stay with him; after all, he didn’t want Morita getting the impression that Yuuri was uncomfortable around him.

“Sure,” Yuuri replied, nodding.  His head felt like it weighed a ton.

Morita smiled.  “Great.”

Yuuri said goodnight to Minako, who gave him a familiar beam of pride as she left.  Satsuki and her cousin dispersed to their respective rooms, and Morita led Yuuri to a different room that he had been using as a study.  The room was a small library, with a large desk filled with neatly organized papers, two heavy armchairs before the desk, and a warm, burning fireplace in the corner.  The heat smacked up against Yuuri’s face as he entered, thinning his blood and sending the alcohol deeper into his brain.

“I want to thank you again for all you’ve done for my daughter,” Morita said as he sat behind the desk.  Yuuri half-collapsed into one of the chairs across from him.  Again, the regret that he had drank so much nipped at him.

“It was nothing,” Yuuri mumbled quietly.  He was fighting to keep his drunken state from being too obvious.  “It’s what I love.”

“I really would like it if you came back to the city with us.  We’ll be heading home in a few days.”

Yuuri blinked to clear his vision.  “A few days?” he repeated.  “Sorry, but…that’s not a lot of time.”

“I know, I know.”  Morita settled back in his chair.  “To be quite honest, we wouldn’t be in such a hurry to leave if not for the unfortunate events of yesterday.”

_Was it only yesterday?  Feels so long ago…._   “Right.”

“I hope you don’t take offense to me saying that.  I don’t have any doubts that Hasetsu is a perfectly safe town, but anytime pirates get involved, I prefer not to have my daughter anywhere near them.”

A loud knock came at the door, three huge pounding strikes, and Yuuri nearly yelped aloud.  Morita frowned at the door and got to his feet.  “Who in the world…?” he mumbled as he went to answer it.

Yuuri looked over at the fire, the flames leaping across the dry wood.  It was so hot in this little room; how could anyone stand it?  He had a vision of an ember jumping out onto the carpet, spreading and catching on all the paper on the desk, all the books on the shelf, swallowing up the whole house until all of Hasetsu was in flames.

_Victor will protect us…Victor won’t let that happen…._

“Would you please come back in a few minutes?” Morita was saying to whoever had interrupted them.  “I’m in the middle of speaking with someone.”

“And I need to speak with _you_ immediately,” came the faraway voice of somebody Yuuri didn’t recognize.  “You need to explain yourself.”

“Like I said, I’m in the middle of a conversation.”  Yuuri could hear the smile in his voice.

“Do you want to tell me why you neglected to mention Victor Nikiforov is in this town?”

Yuuri lifted his head slightly and blinked.  _Victor…?  What?_   He turned around in his chair and tried to catch a glimpse of whoever was standing outside.  In the ensuing silence, the intruder pushed his way into the room, staring down Morita with steel eyes beneath heavy, dark eyebrows.  The man’s glossy brown hair was pulled back into a short ponytail.

“You have some explaining to do,” the man growled.

Morita laughed, but there was the barest hint of nervousness in it.  “I think there’s a bit of a misunderstanding here.”

The man pushed Morita backwards and took a step into the room.  He saw Yuuri, and without an instant’s hesitation drew a flintlock pistol from his belt.  Yuuri’s heart stopped and stuttered in the sweltering heat of the room.  This was the second time somebody had pointed a gun at him within seconds of meeting him; it was not any easier this time around.

“Who are you?” the man asked.  “What are you doing here?”

Yuuri opened his mouth, tried to speak, but the haze of alcohol and adrenaline of panic swirled together in his brain, in his stomach, until he was sick with paralysis.

“Leo, please!” Morita exclaimed, reaching over and pushing the gun down towards the floor.  “There’s no need for that.”

“Then start talking,” the man—Leo, it seemed—growled.  “Do you want to know what the captain will do if I tell him you double-crossed us?”

“Nobody’s double-crossing anybody,” Morita laughed.  “If you’d just give me a moment to properly finish my discussion with my guest, I’d be more than happy to explain everything to you.”

Yuuri swallowed and found his voice.  “Morita, what’s…what’s going on?”

“Nothing to be concerned about, Yuuri.”  Strangely, his voice was actually calming.  Yuuri wanted so badly to believe him, that this was really nothing, but…his head spun with the nonsensical fragments of something he couldn’t quite put together.

“I know you know how long it’s taken to put this deal together,” Leo said, side-eyeing Morita.  “If it goes bad now, you will never be able to make it right.”

“I’d like to make one thing clear,” Morita replied.  “Victor Nikiforov is not in this town.  The people claim to have seen him several weeks ago, but I guarantee you none of these people would know a pirate if he sat down at their dinner table.  The very idea is absurd.  There is no reason for him to be here in this place now.”

“It’s funny to me that you say that, because last night, _three_ members of his crew were seen at the docks.  I saw Christophe Giacometti _myself._ ”  Leo once again stepped into Morita’s personal space.  Yuuri could see how his hands were shaking as they wrapped around the handle of the pistol, barely containing his anger.  “I had one of JJ’s girls keep an eye on them.  Late last night she followed them down to the beach, where lo and behold, their captain Victor Nikiforov is holed up in a little shack under the cliff.”

Leo spoke Victor’s name with intense disdain.  Morita’s eyes widened; Yuuri could see that he was in fact telling the truth.  He’d had no idea Victor was here.  As for what that even meant, Yuuri still couldn’t so much as guess.

“That’s not possible,” Morita said, his voice flat.

“She also happened to mention to me,” Leo continued, ignoring him, “that once the crew went back to the house, she saw somebody leaving.  Seems Victor’s not only here in town, but he’s been here long enough to start sleeping with the residents.”

Yuuri inhaled a choked gasp.  Sweat gathered beneath his clothes, running down his chest.  _Someone was watching me…someone saw me leave Victor’s house…._   He felt lightheaded, and his hazy vision doubled.  He wanted to leave, wanted to be out in the cool night air, away from all this.  Away from whatever was happening here.

“I don’t understand,” said Morita.  “It makes no sense, Leo.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t.  The only way it would make sense is if Victor somehow knew that we’d be here.  If he was here because he saw some sort of advantage to it.”

“It’s possible that he doesn’t know anything at all.  If he’s really been here as long as you say, then he’s been here quietly.  There’s been no reports of anything being stolen or…or anybody being robbed or killed….”

Leo laughed.  “He’s here on vacation then, you’re saying?”

“This can be a good thing,” Morita said quickly.  “This is good, Leo!  He’s right down there at the beach, what’s to stop you from going and getting rid of him now?  That seems like the most logical next step.”

“I’m flattered you think I can take Victor and three of his crew in a fight by myself,” Leo replied.  “My orders were to stay here quietly until Guang-Hong arrives.  He was very clear about that:  no disturbances.”

“The situation has clearly changed.”

Yuuri gripped the arm of the chair tight enough to send pain shooting in his fingers.  He had to get out of here.  He had to tell Victor what was going on, even though Yuuri didn’t understand what any of it meant.  One thing was his immediate concern, and that was that Morita was, somehow, for some reason, working with pirates.

Morita sighed and turned his attention back to Yuuri.  “I’m very sorry to cause a scene in front of you,” he said, and he sounded almost earnest.  “I don’t think I have to tell you that what you heard is not to be repeated.”

Yuuri could only stare.  What was he supposed to say to that?  He began to fear, more intensely and more honestly than before, that he might very well not leave this room.  Deep, heavy, weight beyond weight settled in his stomach, and tears of dread caught in his throat.  He didn’t want to have to beg for his life.  He wanted it to be ten minutes ago, three hours ago, this morning, last night…yesterday night in Victor’s bed, where he was safe, where Victor could fix anything at all that went wrong.

“There’s an easy way to ensure that,” Leo said, and he raised the pistol again, aiming at Yuuri’s head.

“ _No!_ ”

Yuuri didn’t know if the cry had come from him or Morita, who had jumped in front of him with arms outspread.  Yuuri flung his arms in front of his face and curled in on himself, frightened, tearless sobs bursting out of him.

“You’re not killing anybody in my niece’s house, do you understand me!?” Morita shouted.  “Yuuri has nothing to do with this, there’s no need for you to hurt him!”

“How about I meet you halfway and shoot him outside?”

“I won’t say anything,” Yuuri blurted out, his voice muffled from where it was buried in his arms.  “I won’t tell anyone, I won’t say a word to my family, I won’t say anything to Minako or Victor or—”

He caught himself, jaw trembling as he realized what he’d said.  Maybe they hadn’t caught it?  Maybe they hadn’t heard….

There was silence, save for the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.  Yuuri heard Leo step forward and shove Morita aside.  Then, a sharp pain as Leo grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head up.  The firelight glinted in Leo’s eyes and on the metallic shine of his gun.

“You know,” Leo said, his eyes darting across Yuuri’s face, “I didn’t really care at first, but the spy I sent after Victor described his little bedmate to me.  Seemed like a pretty generic guy to me…black hair, kind of chubby in the middle, glasses…and you see, now that I look at you, you match that description a little.”

Yuuri shook his head furiously.  “It’s not me.  It wasn’t me.”

“Don’t be absurd, Leo,” Morita said.  “Yuuri is the last person to get mixed up with a pirate, least of all sleeping with one.”

Leo released Yuuri and stood up straight.  “Hmm…maybe not.  But if he is, all the more reason to get rid of him here, so he won’t go running to Victor to tell him everything.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I promise!” Yuuri insisted.

“Morita,” Leo said, exhaling softly.  “Who is this person?  Why is he here?”

“He’s just a dressmaker who was making a gown for my daughter,” Morita replied.  “I swear to you, he has nothing to do with any of this.”

For a moment, there was silence as Leo studied Yuuri’s face.  There was no reading the emotions behind his eyes.  Yuuri stayed as still and quiet as he could, begging internally that Leo would just tell him to leave, that he saw no threat in Yuuri, that Yuuri wasn’t even worth his time.

Leo put his gun back into its holster, and the charged electricity in the air of the room fizzled away all at once.  “Get out of here,” he said, thrusting his chin towards the door.  He sounded resigned, almost tired, as if Yuuri was a minor nuisance that he just wanted gone.  It was the best Yuuri could have hoped for.

Without a word, or even so much as a glance towards either of the two men, Yuuri got to his feet and ran out of the room.  He ran the short distance through the hallway to the front door of the house, out into the balmy night air where the empty sky glowed brightly with the full moon.  He continued running another block or two, his mind racing, his eyes barely seeing where he was even headed.  It wasn’t until he ran out of breath, until he found himself on his knees in the middle of the road, that he forced himself to get his thoughts in order.

_Pirates…Morita…he knows Guang-Hong, or at least gave him something…set something up for him…he’s alone back there…alone with that man.  I have to…._

Yuuri pushed himself back up to his feet and set off at a jog towards the beach.  _Victor…Victor, please still be here.  Please don’t have left yet._

 

Victor had only just dozed off when the frantic pounding came at his door.  Makkachin lifted her head, her ears standing up at attention, and a low growl-bark started in her throat.  Victor sat up on the bed and frowned in the direction of the door.  Across the room, Christophe turned away from the window and placed a hand on his pistol.

“Victor!” came the muffled, unmistakable sound of Yuuri’s voice.  Victor’s heart leapt into his throat as panic gripped him.  He’d never heard Yuuri in distress like that.  Without a word, ignoring Christophe’s protests, he jumped up and threw the door open.

“You’re still here!” Yuuri breathed more than said.  There was sweat sticking to his bangs, and his face was perilously red.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong?” Victor asked.

“Get inside and shut the door,” Christophe demanded from across the room.

Victor took Yuuri’s hand and led him inside as gently as he could, closing the door behind him.  “Yuuri,” Victor asked again, “what’s going on?”

“My commissioner knows Guang-Hong!” Yuuri blurted out, as if the words had been a painful weight inside his chest that he couldn’t bear one second longer.  “He…I don’t know what he did but…there’s a man with Morita right now, I think he might kill him, Victor, please you have to help him….”

“Hey, slow down,” Christophe said as gently as he could.  “What do you mean, your commissioner knows him?  Did he tell you that?”

“No.”  Yuuri shook his head and grabbed hold of Victor’s hands to ground himself.  Victor winced at the force of Yuuri’s grip.  “But I was…I was at his house, talking about…talking about other stuff, and then this man named Leo barged in and started yelling at Morita, and he knows….”  At this point, Yuuri’s eyes widened and his face went pale.  “He said he knew you were here, Victor.  He was mad because you were here and Morita didn’t tell him, and he had somebody watching us last night, Victor, they saw you, and they saw me too, but he didn’t know it was me when I was there….”

Christophe swore under his breath.  “Leo, huh…that’s got to be Guang-Hong’s first mate.”

Victor nodded slowly.  His throat was drying up faster than he could swallow his fear.  “Yuuri, come sit,” he said, guiding him over to the bed.  “It’s all right.  I’m just happy you’re safe.”

Yuuri sat on the mattress, but wouldn’t let up his hold on Victor.  “I don’t know how I convinced him to let me leave…I thought for sure he was going to kill me, he had a gun….”

A long, sharp pierce of panic sunk its slow way into Victor’s heart.  He had almost lost Yuuri, and he hadn’t had any idea.  He might never had known until weeks later.  And Victor hadn’t been there to protect him.

He did the only thing he could think of and pulled Yuuri into his embrace, fell to his knees before him on the bed, and held him tightly.  He held him as though Yuuri could fuse to his body, become a part of him, so he would never be alone, never be unsafe.

“I’m sorry,” Victor whispered helplessly.  “I didn’t know…I wasn’t there.”

“Guang-Hong’s crew must already be in Hasetsu,” Chris remarked.  “Who’s to say how many.  They must be planning something bigger than I thought.”

“Victor, please,” Yuuri asked again, “I think that man might kill him.  Please, I know this is selfish of me to ask, but you have to help him.”

“I’ll go,” Chris offered without hesitation.  “Maybe I can get some answers out of them while I’m there.”

“Are you sure?” Victor asked.  “I’ll go with you.”

“Stay here with Yuuri.  Don’t worry about me.”  Victor stood up and embraced Christophe in a quick hug.  Chris went for the door, and when he placed his hand on the doorknob, Yuuri called out.

“Christophe,” Yuuri said suddenly, stopping Chris in his tracks.  There was a brief silence before Yuuri spoke again.  “Um…it’s the house at the very end of the main road.”

Chris grinned.  “Got it.  I’ll make sure everything’s all right.”

“…Thank you.”

Chris winked at him and then was gone.

Victor sat down next to Yuuri on the bed and wrapped his arms around him.  “I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, his voice small and soft.  Victor realized now, it had been a long, long time since he’d felt a fear like this.  He’d been so close to losing Yuuri tonight and he hadn’t even known it.  The fact itched at him from the inside, a painful, constant reminder of what could have been.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri mumbled into Victor’s shoulder.  All the pent up energy he’d burst in here with was falling away, a receding tide.  “Victor, what’s happening here?  Hasetsu is just…it’s just a small little place.  What would anybody even want with it?”

“I don’t know,” Victor replied.  “Sometimes…sometimes us pirates do things that don’t make sense.”

“Well, I knew that already.”

Victor chuckled and pulled away.  Yuuri was smiling at him, but his eyes were sunken and tired, giant purple bags forming beneath them.  Victor wished for nothing more than to walk him home, take him up to his room, and tuck him into his own bed, where he’d be safe.

He heard the creak a split second before the sense of danger crawled up his spine.  Without thinking, without looking, Victor grabbed Yuuri by the shoulders and threw the both of them to the floor.  Just as they both hit the ground, their bones shuddering from the impact, a gunshot exploded in through the window.  It reverberated through the tiny room; Makkachin panicked, barking and yelping in equal measure.

Victor waited a few seconds, listening as best he could over her cries, but there was no other sign of movement.  He sat up and looked towards the far window, the one Christophe had been diligently watching for the past few hours.  Yuuri stayed huddled on the floor, too petrified to even react.

The glass in the window had been shattered.  Victor scrambled to his feet and went to grab his pistol from the table.  He had to act quickly, or the shooter would be too far gone.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, kneeling beside him on the floor.  “Yuuri, are you all right?”

Yuuri had covered his ears, but he nodded haltingly.

“All right, Yuuri, listen to me very carefully.  I need you to stay here as quietly as you can.  Get under the bed with Makkachin, I’m going to leave another gun with you just in case, all right, love?”

Yuuri searched Victor’s face wordlessly, and slowly, he nodded again.

Victor opened the drawer of the nightstand and dug around for his smaller gun, a derringer that he kept for when he needed to have a more easily concealed weapon.  He handed it to Yuuri, who took it without an instant’s pause.

“Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull,” Victor said.  “You probably won’t need it, but you have it just in case.  I’ll be _right_ back, my love, I promise.”  He took Yuuri’s hand and kissed it quickly, then stood up and headed for the door.

Once outside, he saw Yuri and Otabek running down from the lighthouse hill.

“We heard a gunshot,” Yuri said breathlessly.  “What happened?”

“Somebody just tried to kill me,” Victor replied with an amused smirk.  “Yuri, you check around the house.  Otabek, search down the north end of the beach, I’ll check the south.  Oh, and Yuuri’s inside with a gun, if you go inside let him know it’s you.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes at Victor.  “Oh, so the dress boy gets a gun, but I don’t?”

“Yuri, you can have _ten_ guns if you find whoever just tried to kill us, all right?”

Victor would argue with him later.  He took off at a run down the beach.  The sky was cloudless tonight, and the moonlight combined with the lighthouse illuminated everything in sharp shadows.  An inferno of rage was building inside Victor, and he grit his teeth painfully tight as he ran.  The pistol in his hand felt lighter and lighter, until it was like an extension of his own hand.

He’d had countless people try to kill him over the years.  It meant nothing; he didn’t even take it personally anymore.  But they’d taken a shot at Yuuri too.  That was beyond unforgivable.  He might even make it hurt when he killed this mystery assassin.  He’d take his time.  Let them know that Victor Nikiforov conceded nothing without a fight, that the King of Gold’s possessions were _nobody’s_ to take.

_Guang-Hong Ji…Jean-Jacques Leroy…you’ll regret trying this.  I’ll destroy you both._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together* owo
> 
> Thank you guys for all your encouragement, kind words, and lovely comments. You all make this easy and so, so rewarding. Let me know what you think with a comment, and come visit me at my my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! A bit of a shorter chapter this time, I hope you all don't mind <3 Love you all, enjoy!

_“We are sinking this ship now_   
_By midnight hour_   
_How long can you hold your breath?_   
_To the sirens who sing to_   
_the broken hearts_   
_We are humming the same tune”_

_\- “Lullaby”_

Victor ran across the sand without feeling any pain in his muscles.  He flew on rage and adrenaline, his eyes scanning the beach expertly for any sign of movement.  He had walked up and down this beach with Makkachin every day since making his home in the shack, searching for hidden caves, places to hide, anything at all that might be useful.  If he didn’t know his own surroundings, he may as well be blind.  It was the same reason Victor could visualize every last inch of his own ships.

There was a tidal pool about a mile down the beach, surrounded by large rocks that jutted out from the water.  Victor quickened his pace as he approached it, and he dove behind the closest boulder he could find.  A shot rang out almost immediately as he took cover; his instincts had been right yet again.  Hoping that the shooter had been momentarily thrown off guard, Victor stood up and fired his pistol towards the tidal pool.  He unloaded another bullet into the darkness as he maneuvered his way closer.  Even with the moon lighting up the beach in a dim white glow, there was no chance of Victor actually being able to hit anything.  If nothing else, it was purely for intimidation.

A dark silhouette appeared briefly from behind another boulder.  Victor didn’t think and he only barely aimed.  His bullet hit the side of the boulder, but he heard the ricochet and ensuing yelp immediately after.  He gave the assassin no time to think or react, and he ran with all his speed to the tidal pool.

Victor was certain he was out of bullets by now, so he grabbed his knife and held it close as he rounded the corner of the beach rock.

“Drop the gun,” he growled.

As it turned out, the pistol was already in the water.  The assassin had apparently dropped it when her arm was grazed by the stray bullet.  For a brief fearful moment, Victor thought he had made a mistake.  This was only a young girl…she couldn’t have been much older than Yuri.  She gripped the wound on her arm as blood dripped slowly and quietly into the tide.

“Kill me already,” she spat.  “I have nothing for you.”

“You’d prefer that, wouldn’t you?” Victor replied.  He remembered the sound of his window shattering, the barrel of the gun that had been aimed at Yuuri’s head—at _his_ Yuuri’s head—and all doubt and goodwill melted away.  “You’ve got some audacity, kid.”

“I could tell you everything and it wouldn’t matter.”  The girl grinned, adrenaline kicking in and reflecting in her eyes.  “We’re already in.  You’ll never find all of us before King JJ gets here.”

“Is that right?  Well, your king isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.  Nobody steals from me.”

Victor stepped closer to her as he spoke, anger settling into his bones, a cool, soothing, low-burning rage.  He saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, and his heart began to race with glee.

“He has Guang-Hong,” the girl insisted, grinning to cover up her terror.  “Not even you can do anything against the two of them.”

“The two of them are nothing but children.”  Victor narrowed his eyes.  “As are you, which is why I’m having some trouble killing you.”

The girl laughed once, a single loud huff, and replied, “You’ll regret that, old man.”

Instantly, as if simply phasing into existence, Victor felt thick, muscular arms around his neck.  Pure shock prevented him from reaching up to plunge his dagger into his attacker’s forearm, which he realized he should have done only seconds after dizziness began to invade his brain.

The girl rushed forward and punched Victor just below his heart, with far more strength than he’d ever expect from a person her size.  The pain was overwhelming; he dropped both his knife and pistol, uselessly scratching at the arms around his neck.  Blackness filled his vision, and he took huge gasping breaths, desperate to stay conscious.

He lifted his foot and drove his heel backwards, searching for the instep of whoever was behind him.  A loud curse exploded in his ear, but the one holding him seemed unfazed.  If anything, the grip tightened.

Victor felt the strength leave his body; his vision was dying, the moonlight fading before his eyes.

 

Yuuri gripped Makkachin with a violently trembling arm.  He heard the distant sound of Victor talking to his crew outside, and then nothing but silence.  The gun was a heavy, grounding weight in his hand, and he repeated Victor’s instructions to himself over and over.  Makkachin’s body was rock solid as she tensed, on full alert and ready to spring on the first threat she saw.

For an eternity, it was silent.  Yuuri strained to hear anything outside, but even the sound of his own breathing was far away.  He closed his eyes and tried to will his heart to stop racing.  Everything would be fine…it would have to be.  Victor was taking care of it.  Victor would fix everything.

He felt a growl bubbling up from inside Makkachin.  She stared at the door and made a noise that wasn’t quite a bark.  When a gentle tap sounded on the door, Makkachin howled and scrabbled out from underneath the bed, barking furiously.  Yuuri gripped the gun in both hands.

The door opened just the tiniest bit, and almost instantly, Makkachin’s hackles went down and she began wagging her tail.  Yuuri’s heart lifted only to be dashed when the voice he heard was not Victor’s.

“Yuuri?” came the thickly accented voice of the boy who shared his name.  “Это я…Yuri.”

Yuuri crawled out from under the bed on his elbows, keeping a tight grip on the pistol.  “Where’s Victor?” he blurted out as he got to his feet.  Yuri shut the door behind him and locked it.  Makkachin danced in circles around his legs.

Yuri looked up and frowned at him.  “Uhh…” he mumbled.  “Victor….”  Victor’s name sounded realer in Yuri’s tongue.  It was supposed to sound that way:  more beautiful than Yuuri could ever manage.

Yuri pointed out the window, towards the beach.  He said a short, murmured sentence that Yuuri wasn’t sure he could understand even if there was no language barrier.  And then, “Victor…beach.  Outside.”

Yuuri bit back the impulse to ask more, to say he knew that already, but it would be no use.  He’d just have to wait.  So he only nodded and sank down onto the bed.  He kept the pistol in his hands, idly dragging his fingers over every inch of it, trying to accustom himself to the feel.  He might need this very soon.  It wouldn’t do for it to feel alien if he needed to rely on it in a moment of life or death.

Out of nowhere, Yuri swore so loudly Yuuri was certain another gunshot had been fired.  He jerked his head up and saw Yuri glaring and baring his teeth with rage.

He began yelling, pointing, swearing at the top of his lungs, rambling on and on endlessly.  Despite having no idea what he’d done to evoke this, Yuuri knew that the tirade was for him, and his face grew hot with embarrassment.  There was nothing he could do except wait for Yuri to calm down.

When it was over, and the words hung in the air between them, Yuri glared, as if actually waiting for a response.

“Um…” Yuuri stammered.  He set the gun down on the table, and traced a large circle in the air with both hands.  “Everything—” he said slowly, then pointed at Yuri, “—you—” pointing then to his own mouth “—just said—” and then shrugging with spread hands “—I don’t understand.”

Yuri’s face went red, and he looked as though he would launch into another tantrum.  But just as quickly, his shoulders slumped with released tension, and he quietly mumbled one last swear.

They said nothing else to each other.

 

An hour later, Otabek and Christophe had both returned to the shack, and Christophe was filled in on what had happened in his absence.  Otabek had found no trace of the shooter either.  Chris, however, had more interesting news.

“I couldn’t get inside without anybody seeing,” Chris told Yuuri, pouring himself a glass of the vodka Victor kept in the bookshelf.  “Leo had people at the front gate.  I was going to try to find another way in, but I saw him leaving before I could get that far.  So instead I went in after he was gone.  Don’t worry, nobody saw me,” he added with a wink, seeing the wince on Yuuri’s face.

Christophe threw back a large gulp of alcohol.  “I had a little talk with your commissioner.  He wasn’t forthcoming at first, but I convinced him.  This is yours, by the way.”  He shrugged Yuuri’s bag off his shoulder and held it out to him.

Yuuri suppressed the urge to ask what Chris had done as he took his bag back.  In all the confusion, he must have forgotten to grab it on his way out.

“That guy’s no good.  I’ve been in this business a long time, and there’s always some merchant who thinks he’s being real clever going into business with pirates.  They try to make deals with us, buy some of our loot so that they can be the only one in town who’s got the merchandise.  For some pirates, it’s an okay arrangement.  Victor never wanted any part of something like that.”  Christophe paused a moment.  He looked at Yuuri and seemed to be arguing something in his head.

“What?” Yuuri asked, tightening his hands into nervous fists.

“That guy’s responsible for what happened to your friend, Yuuri,” Chris said softly.  “I don’t know if you know, but the reason the ships were attacked at sea is because Morita set it all up that way.”

“What are you talking about?”  Yuuri’s head felt tight and empty.

“He admitted to me that he helped orchestrate everything from the beginning.  JJ getting more aggressive down here to draw the navy’s attention, the ships being attacked by Guang-Hong’s full force instead of what they thought they were going out for…it was all to get more ships, good, military ships.  Guang-Hong and JJ are coming, and they’re going to take this town and use it as their own personal little port.  There’s no one to stop them, after all.”  Chris took another drink.  “After that, the plan was to come after us.  Victor and us, I mean, to get us out of the way of their business plans.  And to be honest with you, I don’t know if we could have stopped them, as big as they are.”

_That’s why Leo was mad,_ Yuuri thought to himself.  _He must have thought someone told Victor about it all.  Victor wasn’t supposed to know…._

“Where is Victor, by the way?” Chris asked.

Yuuri shook his head.  “I don’t know.  He hasn’t come back yet.”  _He said he’d be right back…he’s always protecting me, and I can’t do the same for him…._

“Mila and the others should be here soon,” Otabek said, reclining in a chair with his feet up on the table.  “Emil will be a few days behind her.  We can’t do anything until the ship comes.”

Yuri tugged on Otabek’s sleeve and gave him a look.  Otabek gave him an amused smile and translated everything Chris had said for him.

“I think I should go look for him,” Yuuri said, looking down at the gun in his hands.  “It’s been too long.  I’m worried.”

“You know I can’t let you go out there by yourself,” Chris said matter-of-factly.  “Victor would kill me, and then himself probably, if anything ever happened to you.”

Despite everything, Yuuri blushed and smiled a tiny smile of pride.

“I’ll go.”  Christophe got to his feet after one last drink of vodka.  “Where was he headed?”

Otabek spoke up:  “He went to check the south end of the beach.”

“All right.”  Chris turned to Yuuri.  “You should head on home.  I can have the boys take you.”

Yuuri paused a moment, then replied, “I…I want to stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just until Victor gets back.  I just…want to make sure he’s okay, or I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”

Christophe shrugged.  “Fair enough.”

 

Hours passed.  The night seemed to drag on forever.  Otabek and Yuri conversed quietly in their own language at the other end of the shack.  Makkachin sat between Yuuri’s knees, resting her chin on his leg and staring at him with inquisitive eyes.  Her worry was just as big as, if not bigger than, Yuuri’s own.  Yuuri idly scratched her ear and pushed away every thought that bombarded him.

It was all too much to believe, and it felt like a bad story, made up by someone obviously lying.  The commissioner he’d spent weeks with, Satsuki’s own father…how could one man have brought so much ruin to this town?  And for what?  A business transaction?  No, it wasn’t possible…Yuuri may not particularly like Morita, but he wasn’t _that_ type of person.

_Did he even really come here just to get a dress for his daughter?  Or was that just an excuse for his being in town?_   Yuuri tightened his jaw as his insides seized up.  Hasetsu was on the verge of destruction, and here he was getting his feelings hurt that somebody might not have actually cared about his dresses at all.

_I’m so stupid, I’m so, so stupid…of course something was wrong the whole time.  Nobody would come all this way for me.  There’s nothing about my work that would ever make somebody come here._

He swallowed the tears back, over and over until his throat was dry.  He would not start crying in front of Yuri and Otabek.  If they’d had their way, Yuuri would have been out of the picture already, dead or bribed, and they’d be miles away from Hasetsu.

Yuuri heard their voices growing louder, almost like they were having a disagreement.  He ignored it until he heard Otabek stand up and approach him.  Yuuri looked up; Otabek was holding a bandana in one hand, and he looked almost sheepish.

“Hey so,” Otabek started.  “You’re like…you do clothes and stuff?”

Yuuri nodded, unsure what he was getting at.

Otabek held out the bandana so Yuuri could see the large, jagged hole across its center.  “This is Yuri’s favorite, but it’s been torn for a while and he won’t get it fixed.  Do you mind patching it up for us?”

Yuuri glanced over at Yuri, who sat in the corner, arms crossed and glaring at the opposite wall.

“Uh…sure,” said Yuuri.  He gently dislodged Makkachin and leaned over for his bag.  He pulled out his sewing kit and began searching for a thread color that would match the bandana.  It was a print fabric, yellow with amorphous black shapes across it.  Yuuri knew it was meant to imitate the pattern of a leopard, since he’d seen pictures of it in Minako’s fashion books.  It looked a little tacky to him, but apparently it was popular in some parts of the world.

Most of the tear was across one of the black patches, so he picked out his black spool of thread and a small needle.  Otabek sat down on the bed next to him and watched his movements with unyieldingly intense eyes.

“Am I…what’s wrong?” Yuuri asked, suddenly nervous.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Otabek replied, his expression unchanging.  “I’m just trying to see how you do it.”

“Oh, I see.”  _Why does he always stare like he wants to murder someone?_

Yuuri threaded his needle and unrolled a suitable length of thread, trying to ignore his audience.  Otabek said nothing as Yuuri tied off the end of the string and started in on the cloth.  For a blissful few minutes, Yuuri let himself fixate on nothing but the needle and thread going in and out.  There was always a sort of meditative state that came with this sort of repair work, and for a moment he even forgot Otabek was sitting so close to him.  He felt his mind calm, and the buzzing thoughts that plagued him faded into background noise.

Unfortunately, a tear like this was never going to take him long, and he was finished long before he could fully relax.  When he cut the thread from the bandana, he noticed that Yuri was now sitting beside him as well.

“Well, here you go,” Yuuri said, handing the bandana to Yuri, who grabbed it up eagerly.  Yuri gripped it tightly and gave it a few harsh tugs.  Yuuri held back the impulse to smirk.  If Yuri thought he was going to get Yuuri’s stitching to tear so easily, he clearly didn’t know whose work he was dealing with.

Finding the bandana to be to his satisfaction, Yuri grinned wide, a genuine, boyish smile.  He blurted out a word that Yuuri hoped meant “thank you”, and tied the bandana back over his head.

“Hey,” came Otabek’s voice from Yuuri’s other side.  “Show me how you threaded that needle so quickly.  You did it without even looking.”

In spite of everything, Yuuri found himself smiling, and little by little, his anxiety dissolved.  “Sure.”

 

Victor awoke around what he suspected was no more than five minutes later.  His attackers had taken advantage of every moment, it seemed, as he was now bound hand and foot and being dragged across the sand.  He heard people murmuring behind him, and he strained to hear what they were saying.

“…keep him alive, you idiot.  Killing him doesn’t make his ships and his crew go away.”

“So you mean, like a ransom?”  This one sounded like the young assassin girl.

“Yes, we do it all the time with Captain Ji.  Grab some rich kid, send their family the terms, and then just wait for the money to roll in.  People will pay just about anything.”

“That’s not very exciting.”

“If you think we just sit around on our asses all day, then you’re dumber than you look.”

“Fuck you,” the girl spat.

They dragged Victor into a cliff-side cave after another several minutes of walking.  The sand had gotten beneath Victor’s clothes and was beginning to fray his white shirt into pieces.  He was belatedly relieved that he had not been wearing his vest when he left the house; for that to have gotten torn or dirty on top of all this would have been devastating.  Small blessings, then.

The cave was lit by a central bonfire, around which sat no less than twenty pirates.  From the looks of them, it was a mixture of Guang-Hong’s and JJ’s crews.  Victor was surprised to see more young girls among them, all around the same age as the assassin he’d chased.  He’d never have guessed that JJ would have a crew made of so many young women, but then again, today seemed to be full of surprises.

“We’ve got a guest tonight, so everyone be on your best behavior,” announced the pirate dragging Victor as he stepped inside.  The cave fell into instant silence as they realized who Victor was.

“No way…” breathed one of them, just before bursting out into excited laughter.  “You actually did it!”

Victor was roughly deposited against a far wall, and he wriggled his way up to a sitting position.  With the whole of the cave gawking at him, he grinned and gave them a curt nod.  “Gentlemen.  Ladies.”

“Someone needs to go tell Leo!” yelled one of the pirates who looked like he might be with Guang-Hong’s crew.

“I’ll go,” said the one who had dragged Victor here.  “Leo was real pissed off when he saw that Victor was here, this is going to make his day.”

Two others volunteered to go with him, but when they had all left, Victor overheard someone mutter, “Buncha kiss-asses.”

 

Faint sunlight was illuminating the windows in a tinge of gray by the time Christophe came back to the shack.  Yuuri had not slept for almost an entire day by now.  He pushed the fatigue to the back of his mind, staying awake on sheer willpower and anxiety.  Otabek and Yuri had dozed off about an hour ago, and even Makkachin was curled up on the bottom end of Victor’s bed.  When Chris knocked on the door, announced himself, and came inside, everyone in the house stirred awake.

Christophe’s face was pale, his eyes slightly bloodshot and sunken.  He sank down into a chair and looked as tired as Yuuri felt.  Seeing him like this, Yuuri didn’t even want to ask what he’d found out.  He tried to mentally prepare himself for Christophe to say that Victor was dead, but even thinking it sent his heart into such turmoil he wanted to lay down and die.

“Well?” Otabek asked, rubbing his eyes, the bravest of them to be the one to ask.  “What happened?”

Christophe sat up straighter and cleared his throat.  “They got him.”

Yuuri’s entire body went cold, a sensation he’d never felt before.  It was a subdued panic, and the whole world felt like a nightmare come to life.  He opened his mouth to speak and didn’t even care how badly his voice was shaking.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Yuuri whispered.  “W-who?”

“I don’t know, but I can guess.”  Christophe shook his head and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.  “I tried trailing them as far as I could without being spotted.  I didn’t know how many there were, but I didn’t want to bet that I’d brought enough bullets for all of them.”  He paused and sighed.  “The best we can hope for is that they’re keeping him alive for a ransom.”

_This is my fault…this is all my fault.  He left because they shot at me.  He was trying to protect me, this never would have happened if not for me…this is my fault, I did this.  I did this._

Yuuri didn’t even realize that he had started silently crying until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.  He jerked his head up and blinked against the blur of tears.  Yuri was beside him, scowling, but somehow, without any real anger.  Yuri said something to him slowly, as if it would make Yuuri understand him, a long, rambling sentence.

When he was done, Yuuri looked helplessly to Otabek.  Otabek grinned and said, “Basically, he’s saying it’s not your fault.”

Yuuri blinked, an emotion he had no name for clearing the fog in his head.  “Oh,” he murmured.

“And he also says that you won’t help Victor by crying about it, and that it’ll all be all right.”

Yuri glared, a soft pinkness in his cheeks, and muttered one last thing, a sharp word that Yuuri recognized as Yuri’s favorite curse word.  Despite everything, it made Yuuri smile.

A deafening explosion sounded outside, followed by a deep, low rumble that made the entire house shudder violently.  Chris leapt to his feet and glanced frantically out the window.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hissed.  “They’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Otabek's resting murder face tbh
> 
> Nothing but happy fun times ahead for the boys :3c
> 
> Let me know what you think with a comment, and come visit me at my my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody, yes I am still alive and no this story will never be abandoned!! I took a short break from working on but we're back at it again.
> 
> Just as a quick warning, this chapter has a touch of content that may be uncomfortable for some, so please be aware of that. Enjoy, guys!!

_“Don't you know_   
_In the end you're no stronger of hand_   
_You are no stronger of heart_   
_Don't you know_   
_In the end, we'll be tragically torn apart_   
_If we can't control the storm”_

_\- “Control the Storm”_

 

 

Victor hadn’t been able to sleep.  Not that he would have succumbed should the temptation of drowsiness overcome him.  For hours, he watched the pirates gathered around the fire, straining to hear anything they spoke of.  JJ’s crew kept their conversations to a minimum, perhaps because they realized Victor’s ears were open.  Guang-Hong’s crew spoke a language Victor didn’t recognize.

Yuuri was never far from Victor’s thoughts.  He could only pray that Yuuri was safe, that nothing had happened since Victor left the house.  The only thing he had to console himself with was that Yuuri was in good hands with his crew.  Yuri might have his teenage moodiness at all hours of the day, but he was fiercely loyal.  Victor had no real fear that Yuri would intentionally let Yuuri come to any harm.

The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon when everything began to move at once.

Victor heard a faint, distant rumble:  cannonfire.  The hushed conversations of the pirates stopped, and for a brief instant, the world held its breath.

One of the girls stood up, grinning ear to ear, and said, “All right, let’s go.”

 

Yuuri felt the onset of a panic attack immediately after Christophe spoke.  The pirates _couldn’t_ be here now, they just couldn’t, not when Victor was gone.  Not when Yuuri hadn’t had enough time to warn his family, and Minako, and Yuuko and Takeshi.  Not when they had no plan.  Not now.

“What do we do?” Otabek asked.  His eyes were wide and tinged with a hint of fear, the first time Yuuri had seen such emotion from him.

Christophe was silent a moment, thinking as the sounds of cannons increased, growing louder every minute.  “Here’s what we’ll do,” he said with a steady voice.  “I need to assess the situation before we can make any real moves.  I’ll go over to the docks and try to figure out how much time we have.  Yuuri, take these two with you into town and get as many people to safety as you can.”

Otabek huffed.  “And where would that be?  There’s no place in this town that’s even remotely fortified.”

Yuuri gripped his chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt in a shaking hand.  “I…have an idea.”

Everyone turned to him, even young Yuri, who didn’t understand a word of what Yuuri said, but his intense green eyes were fixated on him, almost entranced.

“What are you thinking?” Chris prodded gently.

“I-it’s a bit of a longshot, but….”  Yuuri swallowed.  “There’s one place in town the pirates probably won’t attack.”

Otabek figured it out instantly.  “What, that crook merchant?” he exclaimed.  “What makes you think you can trust him?  It’s his fault this is even happening!”

“I _know_ ,” Yuuri replied, gritting his teeth and staring at the floor.  “But…I have to try.  He might still help me.  He…seems to like me, or something.”

“He might not even still be in town,” Chris said, not unkindly, but simply to state facts.

“I have to try,” Yuuri insisted.

Yuri looked fiercely to Otabek, who mumbled a hurried translation.  Yuri’s eyes went even wider and he turned to Yuuri, then screamed something frantically in his face.

“He says that if you’re going to see that guy, we’re coming with you,” Otabek said.

The panic in Yuuri’s heart receded just a bit, just enough for him to breathe.  “Okay,” he said.  “…Thank you.”

 

Hasetsu was still mostly asleep as Yuuri made his way through town with Otabek and Yuri close behind.  Some people had opened their windows and were looking towards the harbor, wondering what they had heard.  It wouldn’t take long for panic to run its course.  There wasn’t much time, and Yuuri didn’t have another plan if Morita decided not to help him.

_I can’t think about that now_ , Yuuri thought as he knocked on the door of Morita’s niece’s house.  _Just talk to him.  Convince him.  Do whatever it takes._

The door was eventually answered by a housemaid, who looked warily past Yuuri to where Otabek and Yuri were standing just beyond the gate.  “Yes?”

“Please, are Morita and Satsuki still here?” Yuuri asked.  “It’s urgent.”

“As far as I’m aware,” she answered.  “What business do you have so early in the morning?”

“I need to speak with Morita right now.  It’s concerning a conversation I had with him last night.”

The maid looked again at Otabek and Yuri, paused a moment, and said, “Very well.  But only you; those two wait outside.”

“That’s fine.  Thank you.”

Yuuri followed her inside and waited impatiently in the foyer as she went to go retrieve Morita.  He paced back and forth, agonizing over what he was going to say, how Morita might react, how Hasetsu was going to make it through the rest of the day…and on top of all this, what was happening to Victor?  What was being done to him right now?  Was he even alive?

Yuuri swallowed down his anxiety before panicked tears could overcome him.  He had to trust in Victor…there was no way that the King of Gold would be taken down so easily.  If Victor knew that Yuuri was worried, he’d laugh and make up some story about how he’d gotten out of situations a hundred times worse.  And Yuuri, knowing it was just a wild tale, would smile and believe him anyway.

The maid reappeared.  “He’ll meet you in the parlor.  If you’ll follow me, please.”

When Yuuri entered the room, he was immediately grabbed up in a too-tight hug.  Morita, who looked like he hadn’t slept all night, squeezed Yuuri close to him like he was his own child.  Yuuri had the intense and sudden sensation of suffocating, and he barely kept himself from pushing the man away.

The maid left them then, and Morita released him, holding Yuuri by his shoulders at arms’ length.

“Thank goodness,” Morita breathed.  “I was afraid Leo might have had you killed.  You have no idea how happy I am to see you safe.”

Yuuri forced a smile for him.  “I’m fine.  But there’s something I need to talk to you about.  There’s pirates in the harbor.  They’re going to attack Hasetsu any minute now.  They might have already started.”

Morita seemed to deflate and let his hands drop to his sides.  “Oh, Yuuri…I know.  I was hoping you wouldn’t get caught up in all this.”

Yuuri wanted to yell and demand to know why he had done it.  Why Morita had sold out their little town that had done nothing to anybody, why he thought he could play with people’s lives like a bargaining chip, all for nothing but his own benefit.  But there wasn’t time.  Yuuri might never get those answers.  Right now, he needed Morita’s help, and antagonizing him would only hurt things.

“I need to ask you a favor,” Yuuri said.

“What’s that?”

Yuuri took a breath.  “I need a safe place for my family to stay when the pirates come through town.  I know they’ll get here; we don’t have anyone to keep them out.  All the sailors are still recovering from what happened before.”  He paused.  “I think this house might be the safest place for them.  Please, just for a few days…can they hide here?”

Yuuri waited for what felt like an eternity for his answer.  After a moment of silence, Morita gave him a bemused grin.

“I’m not exactly in the business of harboring refugees, Yuuri,” he replied, his voice flat and lifeless.

“I-I know but…please, I don’t have any other options.  I don’t want to think of what will happen to them otherwise.”  Yuuri felt his heart stopping.

“What makes you think that this house is any safer than anywhere else in Hasetsu?” Morita asked, his eyes narrowing.  “This is by far the biggest one.  Don’t you think pirates, in search of something would steal, would come here first?”

“Because….”  Yuuri swallowed.  “I know you’re working with them.  That man that came into your study when we were talking last night…I know he’s one of them.  And if…if you _are_ working together, then you would have told them to stay away from this house.  Because your niece is here, and your daughter is here.”

There was a tense silence, during which Morita stared at Yuuri with the most condescending eyes.  “Well, aren’t you clever,” he said with disdain.

Yuuri’s breath caught.  Had he said something wrong?  “I….”  He swallowed again.  “I’m not going to tell anyone anything, if that’s what you’re worried about….”

Morita laughed and ran a hand through his hair.  He took a step closer and said, “No.  I know that you won’t.  But let’s make things fair, shall we?”

Yuuri’s heart began to beat again, hammering painfully on the inside of his ribcage like it was desperate to get away.

“You know my secret, so why don’t you tell me yours?” Morita said, coming closer still.  “You knew Victor Nikiforov was here, didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asked, unable to look him in the eye.

“If you’re so worried about what pirates would do to your family, why are you sleeping with one?”

Yuuri forced a smile.  “What are you talking about?  Why would you say something like that?”

“I’ll help your family, Yuuri.  I’ll give them a place to hide for a few days.  If you want, I’ll even let Minako come along too.  But you have to give me something in return.”

He was so close now that all Yuuri could see was his piercing eyes, staring unblinking past his lies.  Yuuri steeled himself to keep from trembling.  Nothing else mattered besides keeping his family safe.  He’d hurt them with his selfishness for long enough.  Yuuri shut his eyes and swallowed down any fear, any worry that would keep him from doing what he knew was right.

Yuuri opened his mouth and said quietly, “Anything you want.  Just…please.  They have to be safe.”

“Anything?” Morita asked, reaching up to take Yuuri’s chin in one hand.  “Let’s not make promises we can’t keep, Yuuri.”

Yuuri tried to speak, but all his willpower was focused on keeping his body very still, as if the slightest movement would incite violence in this man.  So instead, he nodded wordlessly.

_Whatever he wants me to do, I’ll find a way out of it later.  I can’t think about that right now.  I need his help.  This is the right thing to do._

Morita smiled, and it looked genuine, calm, devoid of any sense of malice.  “You know you’re a very hard person to get close to, Yuuri,” he said.  “I tried for weeks to even get you to hold a normal conversation with me.  I admire your work ethic, of course, but it’s enough to make a man think he’s being snubbed.”

The heat of panic flared up from the center of Yuuri’s chest, spreading to every crevice of his body and making him sweat lightly beneath his clothes.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.  “I didn’t mean to…I’m not always good at noticing stuff like that.”

“I really do want you to come back home to the city with me.  You’d have a much better life if you were with me than with that pirate.  You do know a pirate’s lifespan is pitifully short, don’t you?”

Yuuri made himself nod.  “I’ll go with you, if that’s what you want.”

“That, and just one more thing.”

As Yuuri opened his mouth to respond, Morita’s lips closed over his.  Yuuri’s whole body seized, and for an instant he felt like this wasn’t really happening to him, like he was somewhere else in the room simply watching this unfold.  Morita’s tongue pushed roughly into his mouth, and it actually felt cold, lifeless, with no trace of the warmth of anything human.  His lips were strong, like Victor’s were, but it wasn’t Victor, there was no love in any of it.  Yuuri always loved Victor’s strong kisses, loved the way he held such masterful control over them both when they kissed, but Yuuri allowed him that.  It was a feeling of being protected.  This, whatever this was right now, didn’t even feel like a kiss.  It felt like theft, and tasted like violence.

By the time it was finished, what felt like a lifetime later, Yuuri was shaking as sweat covered his skin.  Morita looked positively over the moon, and he smiled wide as he pulled away.  Yuuri’s stomach turned to see the man’s lips, knowing that he knew what they felt like, what they tasted like, knowledge he never wanted and now could never discard.

“You’re something special, Yuuri,” Morita said with genuine fondness.  “I don’t know if _he_ ever tells you that, but it’s true.  I see it in you.”

Yuuri didn’t trust himself to say a word, even move an inch.  If he tried to speak, he might scream.  If he moved, he might run away.  Despite everything, he’d still come here for a reason.  A reason that had nothing to do with himself.  He could endure this much for the safety of his family.

“Go on and fetch your loved ones,” Morita told him.  “I’ll take care of everything.”

 

Yuri paced frantically in front of the massive house’s front door.  He stared at the outside walls, as if he could intimidate them into telling him what was going on inside.

“Calm down,” Otabek told him for the fourth time, though his own apprehension showed in the sharply furrowed brow of his already intense face.  “You’ll need your energy for the rest of the day.”

“We should have gone in with him,” Yuri growled.  “We should have _forced_ our way in and told him we were using the house whether he liked it or not.”

“Sometimes a steady approach saves the most time,” Otabek replied.

“If something happens to him Victor is going to kick our asses.  What if he keel-hauls us?”

“Let’s give it a few more minutes.  Then we’ll go in.  Satisfied?”

Yuri scowled and went back to pacing.  After about a minute, the front door opened and Yuuri emerged.  Before either Otabek or Yuri could say a word, Yuuri said, somewhat flatly, “He said we can bring them here.  We don’t have much time.”

Otabek nodded.  “We should split up, get them to safety as quickly as we can.”

Nobody had mentioned it, but the sound of cannons had been growing louder all morning.  There were already some people out on the streets in the early stages of curious panic.

“Right,” Yuuri agreed.  “I’ll get my family and Minako.  I want you two to go get my friend Yuuko and her children.  She’ll need your help carrying her babies…I’ll tell you where she lives.”

 

Yuuri ignored everything around him, even his own thoughts, as he ran down the street to the restaurant.  His family would have been up for hours by now, even though the restaurant didn’t open until much later.  It was better that way; having customers around would surely have led to him bringing more people to Morita’s house than agreed.  Mari was sweeping on the front porch when Yuuri arrived, a lit cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

“Yuuri,” she exclaimed upon seeing him.  “There you are!  Why didn’t you come home last night?”

“Mari, I need your help,” Yuuri breathed, coming to an abrupt halt in front of her.  “Please don’t ask me to explain.”

She looked at him with level eyes.  “I will, of course, but later.  What do you need?”

“There are pirates out in the harbor.  They’re going to land here in Hasetsu any moment and there’s nobody here to protect us.  Get Mom and Dad and Vicchan and go to the big house at the end of the street.  You all need to hide out there.”

Mari’s expression grew more serious.  She opened her mouth, a million questions on the tip of her tongue, but hesitated.  In the end, she simply nodded.  “All right.  The house where those rich people live, right?”

“Yes.” Before he even realized it, Yuuri leapt forward and wrapped his sister in a tight embrace.  She hugged him back, and Yuuri squeezed her tighter.  He wanted to stay here with Mari, and let her tell him everything was going to be okay, but there was no time.  Later, he decided, he’d tell her everything.  Mari had always given so much of herself to him, and all this time Yuuri had given nothing back.  When he saw her again, after everything was over, he would keep no more secrets from her.

“I have to go get Minako,” he said upon finally releasing her.  “I’ll meet you there later.”

“Okay.”

 

Yuuri had only been to Minako’s house a few times before, but he knew the way as clearly as the path to the dress shop.  She probably wouldn’t be awake by now, and a tired Minako was only marginally better than an angry Minako.  Nevertheless, he’d endure whatever attitude she’d choose to grace him with this morning.

He knocked hastily at the front door to her tiny house.  When she didn’t answer right away, he knocked again, harder, louder, and hopefully obnoxiously enough to force her awake.  He soon could hear muttering and movement beyond the door, and Minako flung the door open.  Her hair, pinned up for the night, was falling out of its confines over her face.  Bleary eyes peered at him, and Yuuri could practically see her brain trying to put together the pieces.

“Yuuri?” she murmured.  “What are you doing…what time is it?”

“Minako,” Yuuri said softly, “something’s happened.”

Minako blinked once, and was instantly wide awake.  “What’s wrong?”

“There’s…there’s pirates coming here.  Right now.”

“Pirates?” Minako repeated.  “Yuuri, come inside, tell me what’s happened….”

“There’s no time.”  Suddenly, and with more violence than Yuuri could ever have expected, emotion closed up his throat tightly with suppressed tears.  “Th-they’ll be here soon…they might even be in town right now.”  He swallowed and winced at the pain of it.  “I just came to bring you somewhere safe.”

“Yuuri…” Minako said with her gentle voice, the voice of a mother, a sister, a teacher, a friend.

The tears began to flow freely down his cheeks, and he covered his face with his hands and turned away from her.  He had treated Minako worst of all through all of this.  He may have kept things from Mari, but he had lied to Minako directly, more than once.  Yuuri knew he never should have done so, but even now, even if he _had_ done everything right, he also knew Minako would never understand.  She’d never accept what Victor was to him, she’d never understand why Yuuri had made the choices he had.  Maybe that was what hurt the most:  that his closest confidant was so far away from him in this.

“Yuuri,” Minako said again, and he felt the touch of her hand on his shoulder.  “Talk to me.  I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry,” he made himself say.  “I’ve been lying to you.”

Her hand stayed where it was, and when she spoke, Yuuri could hear the smile she wore.  “You never stopped seeing him, did you?”

Yuuri looked up at her, and by some miracle, there was no anger in her eyes.  “What…you knew?”

“Yuuri,” she laughed.  “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever known.  I always suspected.  And I won’t lie, I am a little annoyed about it.  But day after day you just seemed happier in a way I’ve never seen before.  I just never wanted him to hurt you, and certainly not like this.”

“Minako…” he said, head spinning.  “It’s not Victor out there.  It’s Jean-Jacques Leroy…and Guang-Hong Ji.”

Minako’s expression turned grave.  “What do you mean?”

“Victor didn’t bring pirates here.  It was…it was Morita.”

“What?”  She blinked.  “I don’t understand.”

The words tumbled out of him then, and he told her everything that had happened last night.  He told her about Leo, about Guang-Hong, about Morita’s partnership with them, the inside job that had nearly killed Takeshi and obliterated the town’s navy.

“So,” Minako said when he was done, rubbing her temples, “all this is going on and you’re saying that Victor Nikiforov has _nothing_ to do with it?”

“I’ve given you no reason to trust me, I know,” Yuuri replied miserably.  “But he really didn’t do any of this.  He won’t even cooperate with corrupt merchants.”

“Yuuri, I _do_ trust you.  Didn’t I just tell you that you can’t lie worth a damn?”  She grinned.  “Pirates are the ones I don’t trust, and that includes Victor.  I can appreciate that he made you happy though, for what it’s worth.  When this is all over, I’m going to need to speak to the both of you privately.”

 

Most of JJ and Guang-Hong’s crew had left the cave early in the morning.  Two of Guang-Hong’s men stayed behind to keep an eye on Victor, though they clearly resented it when they could have been causing chaos in town.  They spoke mostly to each other in the language Victor didn’t understand.  Once he got out of this, he promised himself to learn at least a little bit.  Maybe he could teach Yuuri too, and they could learn together.

Victor tensed and resisted the desire to lose his temper, to start wrestling and pulling against his bonds until he hurt himself.  _Yuuri is smart, he’s resourceful, he has Christophe and the boys with him.  He’ll be all right.  Between the four of them, they’ll all figure out a way to stay safe._

It felt like a whole day had passed by the time the two pirates stood up.  They kicked sand over the campfire, and one of them said something to Victor as he grabbed him by the back of his shirt and began to drag him out onto the beach.

Victor squinted against the bright sunlight.  Seashells and rocks scraped against his skin as they dragged him along, and he gave thanks again that he was not wearing his vest.  He would have had to murder Guang-Hong’s entire crew in recompense if anything had happened to that.

They brought him down the shoreline to a small rowboat.  The one dragging Victor picked him up and tossed him in with as much grace as if he were a sandbag.  Victor landed on his face inside the boat and felt the skin of his forehead split open.  The pirates laughed as Victor wriggled himself upright, the warmth of blood flowing down his face.  He waited until the rivulet of blood reached his mouth, then spit directly in the face of the pirate closest to him.

The man’s howl of shock was well worth the punch to the face that Victor received right after.

They began to row out to sea, and as they came up the coast, Victor could see the combined fleet of Guang-Hong and Jean-Jacques Leroy outside Hasetsu Port like waiting vultures.  There was no way to tell what was happening in town; Victor could only assume the worst, but he held onto as much hope as he could muster.

After an interminably long time, they approached the starboard side of one of the ships.  From the style of it, Victor figured it must be one of Guang-Hong’s.  He made a mental note to steal one of these if he could.  He’d always liked the look of junks.

With great difficulty, one of the pirates lifted Victor over his shoulder and began climbing a ladder that was lowered down for him.  Victor did everything he could to make it as difficult as possible:  he wriggled, kicked the man in the stomach, and even managed to elbow him in the face once or twice.  He almost wished he could understand the string of profanity that was being thrown at him; it sounded impressive enough to make even Yuri blush.

When the pirate carrying him reached the deck, he flung Victor down onto the wooden planks with as much strength as he had in him.  Victor landed painfully on his shoulder and cried out; he had barely avoided a dislocated joint.  He rolled over onto his back and saw dozens of pirates staring down at him, all of them with a murderous look in their eyes, ready to tear him apart at the slightest misstep.

Victor could only grin.  Just as one of them was about to step forward and quite literally kick the smile off his face, an explosion sounded nearby, followed by a wave that rocked the ship sharply enough to send most of the pirates sprawling to the deck.

Victor sat up and strained to see over the railing.  In the distance, her flag and sails unmistakable, came a frigate twice the size of any ship in the harbor.  Plastered across her front bow was a figurehead of a screaming harpy, her colors faded only slightly, blood red wings stretching back along the sides of the ship.  The rows of cannons on her deck smoked heavily, and cries of confusion echoed across the fleet.

Victor grinned again, the old familiar fervor rising in his blood, and his fingers itched for a pistol, for his shashka, so he could join the impending slaughter.

” _Fiery Maria_ ,” he whispered, his smile only growing wider by the second.  “My beautiful lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just wouldn't feel right if I didn't leave y'all hanging a little bit.
> 
> The name of Victor's ship is a reference to Ognyena Maria, a Slavic fire goddess who is commonly associated with the sea and lightning.
> 
> Thanks everybody for your patience and readership: you guys make all of this worth it, and I love and appreciate you all. Let me know what you think with a comment, and come visit me at my my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long time between chapters, I'm sorry guys. To tell the truth this one was difficult to write because I don't feel like big action-y scenes are really my best, so if the quality's not all there I apologize!

_“Even if the world ignites into flames_   
_You'll be right here by my side._   
_And as it burns away you smile at me and say_   
_That not even death could take me_   
_Away from you”_

_\- “World in Flames”_

_Fiery Maria_ came charging into the harbor, three of the fleet’s smaller ships flanking her.  Guang-Hong had too many ships to be done in by just the four of them, but Mila had the element of surprise.  And best of all, Victor’s crew had the gift of speed.  Boarding enemy ships was what they lived for.  Mila remembered a time it had taken them less than an hour to sight a ship, run it down, and have it under their control.  There was no beating the way the crew worked together when it came to infiltration.

Mila had seen these types of ships before, near the mainland.  She’d always secretly hoped that Victor would let her keep one whenever they ran them down, but it was never the right time.  Perhaps today was her time; she’d get one of those ships, with the beautiful fin-like sails, and name it after Sara.  That would be sure to drive Michele wild, once he found out.

On the main deck, Georgi called out for another barrage of cannon fire.  The smoke had barely cleared from the first shot before the second went flying.  The pirates on the other ships were scrambling to return fire.  There wasn’t much time left to take advantage of their confusion.  They had been building up ramming speed for a while, and Mila grinned as she gripped the helm.  There was no need to aim.  She just needed to hit as many boats as she could, as hard as she could, and then the fun would start.

The ship jolted as she began to sustain return fire.  Mila wasn’t fazed; she only held on tighter, and hoped that the ship she was aiming for would go down quickly.  She called out for the crew to brace themselves, and the bow slammed into the nearest vessel.  The sound of crunching wood and crashing waves was like a song in Mila’s blood.  The rammed ship was already starting to go down, and Victor’s crew was preparing the cannons.

Mila felt a familiar warmth at her side.  She turned and saw Sara grinning at her, purple eyes shining with excitement.

“Can I get a good luck kiss before I head over?” she asked.

Mila smiled back and leaned in for a kiss.  Even if the crew had been out at sea for months on end and the rest of them were a disheveled mess, Sara was always nothing short of flawless.  She never even smelled bad.  The harsh sun that only ever turned Mila’s fair skin red and peeling would just enhance Sara’s darker skin.  Her body drank up the sun until it shone from every inch of her.

“Get me something good,” Mila said after pulling away.

“You got it,” Sara replied.  “Maybe I’ll find a ring that matches.”

She held up her left hand, the sapphire ring glinting ostentatiously in the sunlight.  They’d only been officially married for about a month, and seeing the ring she’d put on Sara’s hand never failed to make her heart do a flip.  Although not nearly as much as Sara’s brother Michele was going to flip once he heard the news.  And if Emil and _Marzanna_ were on their way, it wouldn’t be much longer until that fun little conversation.

The sea lit up with explosions as cannons fired from every direction.  The smoke was already beginning to fill the air, the acrid scent of sulfur and gunpowder mixing with the salty breeze of the sea.  Sara headed down to the deck to prepare to board enemy ships with the others, and Mila gripped the helm, shaking with anticipation.

 

Victor was hauled below deck before he could see much more of what was going on.  The brief glimpse of his ship’s figurehead was all he saw before panic set in on Guang-Hong’s ship.  As well they should panic, for _Fiery Maria_ meant one thing:  the most aggressive pirate crew east of the mainland was itching for a fight.

The only part of it all than was less than ideal was the fact that none of the crew knew Victor was aboard these ships.  Worst case scenario, Victor met his end at the hands of his own fleet.

He was dragged downstairs and to an ornate door that could only be the captain’s cabin.  The pirate pulling Victor by the back of his collar knocked tentatively, and he was answered by a shockingly young voice from within.

Once inside, Victor couldn’t help but be impressed by the size and resplendence of Guang-Hong’s cabin.  It was bigger than Victor’s quarters, and covered in countless treasures.  There were folding screens, decorative pots, oil paintings, furs, rugs, and at least three parrots that Victor could see.  Guang-Hong sat behind a heavy oak desk that only served to make him look much smaller and younger than he really was.  He looked perturbed, and Victor could guess several reasons as to why.

“I should have known you’d stick your nose in this eventually,” Guang-Hong said with a sneer as Victor was tossed on the floor in front of him.

“I was just enjoying a nice vacation,” Victor retorted.  “If anything, you’re the one ruining _my_ plans.”

“The whole sea doesn’t belong to you, Victor.  This little nowhere town will be mine, and I don’t need you bothering me about it.”

“Seems a lot of trouble for a little nowhere town.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Guang-Hong sneered.  He gestured to one of his officer standing nearby.  “Get a message to Victor’s fleet before they cause any more trouble.  Tell them they can have their captain back if they leave by sundown.  If they agree quickly, maybe I’ll give him back in one piece.”

The officer nodded and looked to the pirate that had dragged Victor inside.  “Raise the black flag.  And bring him above deck.”

Victor winced as once again he was pulled along the wooden floor.  He twisted around to look at the other pirate as they left the captain’s cabin, and he could see a pistol hanging from the man’s belt.  A quick glance told him they were alone, however briefly, and after a few hours of being able to push Victor around however he wanted, this pirate in particular wasn’t feeling threatened.

Victor folded his legs up as best he could and moved his bound arms beneath his feet.  In moments, his hands were in front of him, and he reached up, yanking the pistol from his captor’s belt.  The pirate barely had time to notice before Victor fired a single shot into the base of his skull.

Victor worked frantically to free himself from his bonds.  Even with the chaos happening just above deck, someone was sure to have heard the gunshot.  He didn’t want to waste more ammo taking care of stragglers.  He tore the ropes off his ankles and wrists and ran for the stairs.  Only one thing was on his mind now, and he’d kill anyone who got in the way.

Scrambling up above deck, he burst out into the harsh sunlight and pandemonium of cannon fire.  Victor ignored everything around him and headed for the railing.  Nobody noticed him as he jumped over the side, plunging deep into the churning waters of Hasetsu’s harbor.  He didn’t yet know how far he was from the shore.  It didn’t matter.  He had to get back to Yuuri.

 

Hasetsu’s militia, or what remained of it, was surprisingly easy to wrangle.  Once at the docks, Christophe found a unit of men already rallying together to fortify the port.  It was easy enough to fall in with them, and if anybody had a suspicion about where he’d come from, they didn’t voice it.  A few of Guang-Hong’s crew and JJ’s girls were tearing through the marketplace, wreaking havoc where they could.  Christophe helped himself to a shotgun and refused to let even one of them past him onto the main road.

For what felt like hours, Christophe and the men held the port.  He tried not to let his wandering thoughts distract him:  yes, they were keeping these pirates from the town, but were there others coming from other directions?  Had there been groups waiting inside Hasetsu for days?  What about Yuuri, the boys, and Victor?  There was no time for any of it.  Christophe still didn’t understand why Yuuri and this town were so important to Victor, but he’d done dumber things at the behest of his captain.  Getting the chance to rough up another pirate crew wasn’t so bad in the grand scheme of things.

Chris spotted a plume of smoke farther down the dock.  Cursing loudly, he ran down to where the black cloud was rising; if a fire spread now they would never be able to contain it.  He found the culprit kneeling down beside one of the cloth tarps covering a fisherman’s stall, preparing to light another tent ablaze.

Before Christophe could react, a gunshot rang out and the man keeled over right on top of his kindling.  Chris looked up and nearly fell over from shock.

“Victor…!” he breathed.  His captain stood there, a smoking pistol in his hand, soaking wet with bits of seaweed and sand in his hair.  “Fuck me, _there_ you are!”

“Sorry,” Victor muttered, yanking the burning tarp down and stomping out the fire.  He threw the cloth over the dead man’s body.  “I’m surprised this gun still works, I had it underwater for a while.”

“You look like shit, Captain.”

“Probably better than I feel,” Victor replied with a crooked grin.  The smile quickly faded and he asked, “How are things here?”

“The docks are okay for now but I have no idea what’s going on in town.  Yuuri and the boys are trying to make sure everyone’s safe but I haven’t seen them since this morning.”

At the mention of Yuuri’s name, Victor tensed and a strange fire came into his eyes.  “All right,” he said.  “Mila’s here with the fleet.  Keep everything under control here.  I’m going to fix this.”

 

Yuri and Otabek arrived with Yuuko and her children not a moment too soon.  They dashed in the front door just as a fire broke out across the street, and the sound of shattering glass and errant gunshots reverberated in Yuuri’s bones.  For the most part, everyone seemed relatively calm, though it was possible that the reality of the situation had not quite sunk in.  Vicchan, for his part, was practically vibrating with anxiety in Yuuri’s arms, growling and barking at every new sound.

“Thank you for helping me,” Yuuri told Otabek as he hugged the little puppy tightly.  “Really…you didn’t have to do this for me.”

Otabek shrugged, his face unreadable as always.  “I should go down to the harbor and find Christophe.  See what’s going on out there.”

Next to him, Yuri frowned and muttered a question.  After Otabek answered him, Yuri’s face went tense with anger and he shouted something, a few of his favorite obscenities peppered among the words.  Then, unexpectedly, he turned to Yuuri and began to shout at him, pointing down the hall.

“Um,” Otabek said, lowering his voice a bit.  “Yuri is asking if something happened between you and that guy…you know, your commissioner.”

Yuuri held Vicchan tighter to his chest.  “What do you mean?  What kind of ‘something’?”

“He’s insistent that we don’t leave you alone with him.  He said you looked bothered after you talked to him earlier.”

Yuuri glanced at Yuri, and the young boy’s eyes were flashing with anger and concentration.  He was more perceptive than Yuuri gave him credit for.

“No, everything’s fine,” Yuuri lied, mustering up a smile.  “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Yuri squinted, obviously fuming.

“And even if he was going to try something,” Yuuri continued, “he wouldn’t do anything in front of my whole family.  But really, I’m fine here.”  He deflated a bit.  “I wish I could come with you and help, though.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Otabek said, but there was no malice to his words.  “You stay where it’s safe.  We’re going to go meet up with Christophe.  Do you still have that gun Victor gave you?”

Yuuri blinked, trying to remember.  It felt like so long ago.  “I think so,” he said eventually.  “I think I put it in my bag.”

“Keep it close.  We’ll be back when we can.”  Yuri followed Otabek out, looking about as happy as a wet cat.  Yuuri watched them go and hugged Vicchan close.

His family, Yuuko, and Minako were in the parlor, where Morita had insisted on serving them food as though this were just a normal gathering.  It took everything Yuuri had not to run away from the house right in that moment, to disappear and remove the blight that was his selfishness from their lives.

A distant explosion of cannons sounded from the harbor, and Yuuri jumped.  _Things could be worse, I guess_ , he thought.  After all, at the very least his family was safe here.

In his arms, Vicchan wiggled and sniffed the underside of Yuuri’s chin.  With a slow, deliberate motion, Vicchan licked Yuuri’s face, the soft reassurance of an understanding pet.  Yuuri smiled, and not for the first time, wondered how Makkachin was faring back in Victor’s shack all alone.  It had pained him to leave her there, but without a better alternative, there was nothing else to be done.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri started at the sound of Morita’s voice.  He whirled around to see the man smiling at him from the hallway.  “Why are you out here all alone?” Morita asked.  “We’re having a nice meal in the other room.  You should come join us, and stop worrying out here.”

Yuuri swallowed and forced a smile, even though it died on his lips immediately.  “I will in a minute,” he lied.

Morita frowned and stepped closer.  “There’s no need to worry, Yuuri.  You and your family will be safe here.  Unless there’s something else on your mind?”

“No,” Yuuri replied quickly.  In his arms, he could feel the vibrations of Vicchan preparing to growl.

“I didn’t tell your family the news, by the way.  About you coming to the city with me.  I thought you might want to tell them yourself.”

“It, um…doesn’t really seem like the right time right now.”

Morita chuckled.  “Well, you don’t have much time.  We’re leaving tonight.”

Yuuri felt like the world stuttered around him.  “Tonight?” he repeated.  “How?”

“You let me worry about all that.  You’ve had a stressful couple of hours.  In fact, why don’t you go lay down for a while?”

Yuuri shook his head, even though he couldn’t deny that the countless hours of no sleep were taking their toll on him despite the anxiety running rampant in his nerves.  “I can’t leave Hasetsu now,” he insisted.  “I don’t even know if my house is still standing, or what’s happening to the dress shop, or—”

“—or where Victor is?  Is that it?” Morita said, raising an eyebrow.  “Yuuri, we had a deal.  I’d hate to have to tell your family they can’t stay here because you couldn’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

Vicchan was growling in earnest now, his whole body shaking.  “Just—at least a few days,” Yuuri pleaded.  “I can’t just leave them in this mess.  Please…you understand, right?”

“Our ship leaves tonight.  I’ve already sent Satsuki ahead, and I don’t intend to make her wait.”

“Why are you doing this!?” Yuuri heard himself shout.  Perhaps it was the fatigue, or the helplessness, or maybe Vicchan’s anger had seeped into him.  Whatever it was, he couldn’t hold it back any longer.  “Why are you doing _any_ of this?  Hasetsu is nowhere and I’m nobody!  There’s nothing in it for you!”

Morita laughed.  He actually laughed.  “Yuuri,” he said, with the tone of explaining something simple to a child.  “Merchants like me have two choices when it comes to piracy.  You can either do nothing, watch your livelihood be stolen by thieves who have never earned a thing in their lives, or you can be smart, and put that situation to your advantage.  It’s not fair, no, but then again nothing is.  It’s nothing personal against Hasetsu.  Guang-Hong wanted something in return, and this town happens to be nicely fortified.”

Yuuri could find no words to say.  He didn’t even know where to start.

“And as for you,” Morita continued, stepping closer.  “I just like you.”  He paused a moment.  “And I thought that if I could save one thing from Hasetsu before it becomes whatever Guang-Hong will make of it, it should be you.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Yuuri mumbled, staring down at the floor.  “You have family here.  You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“Perhaps not.  But we all have to make do.”  Yuuri felt him come even closer.  “Don’t make this hard, Yuuri.  I could change my mind and let you all die here.  But I’m really doing you a favor, more than Victor’s ever done for you.”

“Stop bringing him up,” Yuuri whispered furiously.

“Why hasn’t _he_ helped you?  Seems to me I’m the one who’s so much as lifting a finger for you.”

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.  You don’t know anything.”

“What does it matter what I know or not?  Will it change the fact that he’s not here?”  Morita put his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders; Vicchan’s suppressed growls exploded into full, angry barks, and he wiggled himself free from Yuuri’s arms and ran furious circles around Morita.  He was thoroughly ignored.

“Shall we go say our goodbyes?” Morita asked as he hugged Yuuri close.

 

There was no time to go back to the house for his own weapons.  Victor tore through the streets with his single pistol, shooting down any pirate that blocked his way, stealing their guns when his ran out of ammo, and keeping his mind focused on one goal.

_I have to get to Yuuri.  I have to make sure he’s safe._   Whether Yuuri was all right or not would determine if Victor would destroy all of Guang-Hong’s fleet or just most of it.  Either way, the lust for retribution flared hot in his chest.  He had endured too many trespasses for one day.  Someone was going to pay for it.

It felt like it took him a lifetime to reach the manor at the end of the street, exactly where Christophe had said it was.  And just as expected, there was a noticeable lack of pirate activity in this part of town.  Victor wondered if the people here even knew or cared what was happening.  The front walkway was barred by a heavy iron gate which, to Victor’s surprise, was not even locked.  Even from out here, he could hear the frantic yapping of a small dog:  Vicchan.

Victor grabbed the front door handle and pulled.  It didn’t budge.  On the other side, Vicchan was growling and scratching at the door.  Victor backed up and kicked, all his weight and rage focused into his heel.  The wooden door groaned on the first hit, splintered on the second, and eventually gave way.

Vicchan attacked him the instant he could wiggle through the door.  It was only after he’d nipped at Victor’s ankle that he seemed to recognize him, and his tail began to wag fast enough to wiggle his entire body.  The puppy was the only living creature in the foyer.

“Yuuri!” Victor yelled, as loud as he could.  Silence answered him.  At his feet, Vicchan began to bark again, ran towards the hallway, and looked back at him.  Victor followed him down the corridor to a closed door.  Vicchan put his nose at the bottom slit of the door, scratching and whining.

Luckily, this one was not locked.  Victor burst inside, and what he saw nearly made his heart stop.

Yuuri’s family sat around a large table, all of them unconscious and unmoving.  On a nearby couch, three baby girls were crying loudly.  Vicchan ran to a woman Victor didn’t recognize, but thought might be Yuuri’s sister, and whined pitifully as he tried to hop into her lap.

At one end of the table, Victor saw Minako.  Without thinking, he ran to her side and shook her hard.  She groaned, blinked her eyes, but did nothing more.

“Minako!” Victor exclaimed, shaking her harder and grabbing her face in between his hands.  “Please, wake up!  Are you all right?”

It took some time, but eventually he dragged her out of her stupor.  She looked around the room, eyes widening, and once her gaze settled on Victor, he could see rage growing in her eyes.

“You,” she spat with a raspy voice.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help,” Victor explained, willing the anxiety from his voice as best he could.  He already knew this woman didn’t trust him, and most likely hated him, but none of that was important now.  He couldn’t provoke her, he knew.  She had to trust him now, if only for a few hours, then she could go back to hating him for the rest of their lives if she wanted.

“Yuuri said…” Minako slurred, “he said that they captured you.  Last night.”

Victor grinned.  “That was last night.  I’m fine now.”

“Where is Yuuri?”

“…I thought you might know.”

Minako sat up straighter, suddenly much more alert.  “He was here.  He was here, with us, and…that man.”  She scowled, gritting her teeth.  “That snake.  Morita.  Where is _he_?”

“I didn’t see him, but I haven’t gone looking yet.”

Minako rubbed her temples.  “That rat…that fucking bastard.  I thought this food tasted funny.”

Victor’s heart sank deeper than the deepest ocean trench as his mind ran in a million different directions.  There was only one reason to drug a room full of people like this.  No witnesses.  Nobody to answer any calls for help.  It shredded Victor’s insides, and for an instant he felt completely powerless.

“Listen, you,” Minako said, grabbing a fistful of Victor’s shirt.  “I don’t like you.  People like you are the reason why my dress shop in the city failed.  You just took and took and took until my livelihood was destroyed.  I thought coming back here would keep me safe from piracy, from thieves like you.  And you didn’t just take my merchandise this time, you took Yuuri from me.”

“I never meant—” Victor started to say.

“I didn’t want him to get involved with you,” she continued.  “I knew he was going behind my back.  I knew that he was going to get in some kind of trouble.  You know he never once lied to me before you came here?”

Victor was silent.  He’d expected this, but it didn’t make it sting any less.  Deep down, he’d always known Yuuri was better off without him.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it, that you’re the only one who can help me now.”  Minako took a deep, shaking breath, and slowly let go of Victor’s still damp shirt.  “If you help fix this somehow, if you can help me make sure Yuuri is okay, then you can marry him for all I care.”

Despite everything, Victor felt a blushing warmth in his face all the way up to the tips of his ears.  His heart fluttered in his chest as he said, “I…what?  M-marry him?”

Minako rolled her eyes and looked away, a faint pinkness showing her cheeks as well.  “I mean…I’ll _consider_ allowing it.  But first, help me with everyone else.”

She pushed herself to her feet and went over to wake the others.  Victor took a deep breath and thanked every deity he knew that Minako would, for now, trust him to help.

_I’m coming, Yuuri,_ he thought.  _I promise I’ll find you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everybody! I'm so happy y'all have stuck around as long as you have <3 Any comments or suggestions about how you think things are going are always welcome. I love all of you!!!!
> 
> Come visit me at my my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter for you guys this time!! Y'all I'm so hype about the point of the story we're at now, we're finally reaching parts that I've been wanting to share for over an actual year. You've been great, and I love you all. Please enjoy this chapter; we're heading into endgame <3

It took some time to revive the rest of Yuuri’s family and explain the situation to them.  Victor felt sorry for them, in a way; their day had only just started, and now their town was being attacked, their son had been kidnapped, and Victor Nikiforov was there in the middle of it all.

Yuuri’s mother—Hiroko, Victor quickly learned—looked at him with an expression of rapid realization.  “I remember you,” she said, her plump face, so reminiscent of Yuuri’s, breaking into a smile.  “You were the one who ordered almost everything off the menu that one night.”

Victor laughed, despite everything.  “You remember me?”

“Well of course, who could forget such a handsome foreigner?”

Hiroko’s smile filled Victor with equal parts warmth and despair.  Her smile was so much like Yuuri’s.  Victor had to get him back.  He couldn’t let this woman down, not when she was looking at him like that.

“Victor,” Minako said, breaking through his reverie.  “If you want to catch up to wherever Morita went, you don’t have much time.  You should go now.”

He was torn.  He wanted to protest and insist that he stay here to help, and at the same time he wanted to dash away without another word.  Minako saw his hesitation.

“I said go!” she shouted.

“Wait,” Victor said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Minako’s shoulder.  “If the boys—Yuri and Otabek, my crew—if they come back, tell them where I’ve gone.  Tell them I said to help.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minako replied, shrugging Victor’s hand away.  She looked away, but he could see the glimmer of worry in her eyes and the faintest of blushes on the bridge of her nose.  “I can handle it.  Just go get him, and don’t you dare come back empty-handed.”

Victor wrapped Minako in a tight hug, ignoring her squeals of disapproval, hoping she could feel the real, true gratitude that was reverberating throughout his whole body.  “I will,” he promised.  “I will.”

A door opened, silencing the whole room.  As they all turned to look, the face of a maid peeked out from the door leading towards the kitchen.  She gasped and immediately disappeared.

Victor wasted no time in following her; she shrieked as he grabbed her arm.

“Don’t kill me, don’t kill me!” she screamed.

“Calm down,” Victor ordered, grabbing her upper arms and making her face him.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry, he told me to do it,” the maid said as she started to cry.  “He didn’t tell me why, he just made me put the drugs in all their food, but I didn’t drug the babies, I promise I didn’t!”

“ _Listen_ ,” Victor said sharply, stuffing down his temper.  “Tell me where he and Yuuri went.”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me what you _do_ know.”  Victor loosened his grip on her a bit, just enough to hopefully reassure her.

The maid took in a deep stuttering breath.  “I just…he had his and Miss Satsuki’s things packed last night.  I arranged for her to leave early this morning.”

“Just his daughter?”

“For the time being.  W-when that dressmaker came by, Mr. Morita told me what to do.  I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want any trouble.”  She sniffled.  “I called another carriage after the dressmaker left.  I think they must have left that way after he came back, but I didn’t see them go.”

Victor let out a breath and released her arms.  “Where was the carriage headed?  Do you know?”

“I….”  The maid paused and averted her eyes.  She bit her bottom lip, thinking hard.  “I-if I had to guess…I know that Mr. Morita and Miss Satsuki were heading home to the capital, and the town port is in such a state, so they couldn’t have left that way.  There’s another port town several miles north, but…that’s just my best guess.  I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

“That’s plenty.  You’ve been a big help.”  Victor smiled at her, but she didn’t react.  “By any chance, this house doesn’t have a stable, does it?”

 

Victor didn’t particularly care for riding horses, nor had he done it in many years.  However, the idea of riding to Yuuri’s rescue astride a stallion was a chance Victor wasn’t willing to pass up.  The practicality was a factor too, of course.  He could only imagine the look on Yuuri’s face when they crossed paths again.  Yuuri would probably laugh, call him dramatic, and then tease him about it for days.

Picturing that was much easier than any alternative.  Victor grit his teeth hard enough to pain his jaw whenever his mind drifted towards what Yuuri must be going through right now.  If Morita had done anything to him, if he touched him, if he hurt him, if he’d kissed him or….

_I’ll murder that man,_ Victor thought, gripping the hilt of his shashka.  He’d made a quick trip back to the shack for it, and to reassure Makkachin that he and Yuuri both would be home soon.  _I don’t even care if his daughter sees.  I’ll kill him._

But no, it wouldn’t do to dwell on that.  He needed to focus.  The first place he needed to check was the port town where _Fiery Maria’_ s crew had been just a few days prior.  It would take several hours to get there, then an indeterminable amount of time to locate Yuuri at the port.  And that was only if that was the correct place.  Victor’s heart sank to think that he might have to check multiple towns.

It didn’t matter.  He’d follow them all the way to the city if he had to.  He’d tear down everything in his way to get there.

 

Many agonizing hours later, Victor arrived in the northern town.  Even knowing nothing about horses, he could tell that his steed was exhausted, so he located the closest stable and left the animal there.  A quick inquiry to the workers gave him no leads about Morita’s whereabouts.

No matter.  All he’d have to do was find the ships headed to the city and go from there.  Victor ran for the port, eyes constantly scanning the crowds for any sign of Yuuri.  Every glint of glasses made his heart stutter, any shock of messy black hair made him stumble.  He _needed_ Yuuri in his arms again.  Not knowing if he was even safe was the worst fear he’d ever felt.  That fact alone scared him even more.

After some investigation, he found three ships that were headed to the city later this evening.  All but one let him review the passenger manifest.  Neither Yuuri’s nor Morita’s name appeared on either of them.  No amount of bribing would get Victor that third list, and it took all his willpower to keep from simply killing the crewman keeping it from him.  If he lost his temper and got arrested, it would only make it harder to find Yuuri.

Next was to search the inns.  Victor headed for the most expensive ones first.  It felt like hours that he searched.  No matter how many times he described Yuuri and Morita, nobody had seen them.  He worked his way through every inn, every tavern, until he was forced to ask people on the street.  Every unhelpful answer brought Victor closer to the conclusion he’d been praying wasn’t true:  Yuuri wasn’t even here.

The sun began to set.  The ships would be leaving for the city soon.  Victor’s only remaining option was to sit by the docks and watch as every passenger boarded, hoping against hope that Yuuri might be there.  He watched them all, searching every face with quiet desperation, until no more came.  He watched as the ship raised its anchor, opened its sails, and drifted away, leaving only the reflection of the moon on the water in its place.

Victor sat on the pier, feeling the sea breeze on his skin.  He blinked and rubbed his eyes.  He hadn’t slept in almost two days by now, and he certainly couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten.  The wind blew his braid over his shoulder, and the frayed edges of the blue silk ribbon danced in the air in front of him.  Victor took the ribbon in his hands and retied it into a bow.  The water beneath his dangling feet was dark and silent, and not for the first time Victor wondered what it would be like to rest, just for a moment, on the soft ocean floor.

He never wished for death.  Only for silence and solitude, a few moments to forget the way his life had turned out and his inability, despite everything, to hold onto a single thing.

“Hey, you,” came a voice from over his shoulder.  Victor looked up.  He recognized the man standing there:  he’d been the barkeep at one of the taverns Victor had searched that afternoon.  “You all right?”

Victor forced a smile.  “I think I’ve lost the love of my life.”

“Ah.”  The man nodded, solemnly and knowingly.  “Well, you look like shit, so why don’t you come get something to drink?”

Victor considered it a moment.  It was clear now that he’d been looking the wrong town all day, wasting his time while Yuuri and Morita went farther away.  By now, they were probably on another ship or very close to boarding one, and Victor wasn’t sure if he’d catch up even if he left now.  Then there was also the question of how things were going back in Hasetsu.  If the town burned while Victor chased Yuuri up and down the coast, he knew that Yuuri would never forgive him.  The right move now was to go back, settle things with Guang-Hong once and for all, then collect his crew and head for the city.  Yuuri would be there.

_Forgive me for making you wait, Yuuri.  Please, be strong until I get there.  I know you can do it._

“Sure,” Victor said.  He accepted the man’s outstretched hand and got to his feet.

Tomorrow, he would go back to Hasetsu.  Tonight, all his strength was used up.

 

When he finally returned to Hasetsu, he could see smoke down by the water.  Only the water, though, and nowhere near the town itself.  Still, the knot in his stomach didn’t unravel until he approached Morita’s house and saw Yuri and Otabek standing guard outside.  Yuri’s eyes widened upon seeing Victor, only to immediately collapse into rage.

“Well?!” Yuri shouted, running up to Victor.  “Where is he?!”

Victor exhaled slowly.  “I looked all day yesterday.  I’m only one man, Yuri.”

“So you just let that fucker get away with him?”

Victor flashed Yuri the one look that always made the boy back down.  “Nobody’s getting away,” Victor explained.  “I’m back here because I’m taking the ship to go get him.  But first we need to handle this situation.”

Yuri averted his eyes.  “Fine.  But don’t expect me to have your back when that scary lady inside kicks your ass.”

The idea of explaining himself to Minako was almost enough to make Victor reconsider this whole plan.  But he’d endure it.  The sooner this was done, the quicker he could set sail.

“What’s been happening since I left?” Victor asked.

Between Yuri and Otabek, Victor was filled in.  The _Marzanna_ , one of Victor’s larger other ships, and her captain Emil had arrived in town last night.  Mila and the _Fiery Maria_ crew had held back Guang-Hong’s fleet enough to keep the crew from doing serious damage in town, but the market down by the port had suffered the most losses.  Most everyone in town was safe, including Yuuri’s family.

“Also,” Otabek added with a grin, “you’ll love this, Captain.  We got JJ.”

Victor raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how they did it, but last night Sara and Michele got on his ship and managed to grab him.  I think they got him in _Fiery Maria_ ’s brig right now, but his first mate and crew have stopped everything.  They’re not attacking anymore until we set up some kind of hostage negotiation.  Christophe told us to wait until you got back to make any decisions, but if you ask me that first mate of his is just gonna start doing her own thing soon enough.”

“Where’s Christophe now?”

“On the ship.”

“And Guang-Hong hasn’t made any more moves?”

Otabek shook his head.  “Mila sank way more of his ships than I think he was willing to lose here.  But I think if he wanted to, he could take us all out.  I wouldn’t rest easy just yet.”

“All right.  Thank you, boys.  You stay here; I’m going to head down to the ship.”

“You’re not going to tell that lady you’re back?” Yuri asked.

“Honestly?  I’d rather face Guang-Hong than Minako right now.”

 

_Fiery Maria_ was Victor’s pride and joy.  He’d stolen her years ago from a naval officer, and the fight had nearly killed Victor.  He wasn’t sure why he’d fought so hard for her; back then he only had two ships, one of which was constantly in need of repair.  It was hard to keep his crew from abandoning him every time they made port, and that very day he suspected that some of them were plotting a mutiny.  When he saw the warship on the horizon, something caught fire in his blood that had never gone out since.  Despite being outgunned and outnumbered, they ran her down, fighting until Victor’s own ship was sinking out from under him.  But the moment he’d beaten the captain in single combat had been the closest to earthly euphoria he’d ever felt.  He’d sliced the man’s head off, and with blood dripping off his hands, declared to the whole ship to choose which captain they wanted to follow.

Victor’s luck turned around that day.  His fleet grew, as did his crew and his wealth.  He’d poured money into outfitting _Fiery Maria_ with the best cannons and equipment he could buy, until she was nothing less than the best frigate on the seas.  He saved the best treasure for his personal captain’s cabin, however.  He took his meals there on his massive wooden dining table, kept his cabinet of priceless liquors there, and had a massive bed where he slept and fucked whoever he deemed deserving of his personal quarters.  Even Makkachin had a portioned off area of the room where he kept her bed and toys.

Walking into his cabin now, Victor felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness.  It wasn’t even that neither Yuuri nor Makkachin were here, the two other rightful inhabitants of this place.  All the deadness, the meaninglessness that had driven Victor to Hasetsu in the first place came rushing back.  Now, knowing what purpose life could have outside of piracy, the ship felt colder than ever.  A shell of something beautiful, with no heart within.

Victor collapsed onto his bed and pushed away the temptation to just sleep.  He buried his face in his cold blankets, the pillow he hadn’t sleep on in months, and imagined that Yuuri was there with him.  One day soon he would wake up and see Yuuri in this bed beside him.  Victor groaned as he thought of finally taking Yuuri here, making love to him in this proper bed instead of the old shack on the beach.  It was an irresistible notion, and Victor forced himself up just as he felt himself getting hard.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.  Christophe entered, an unreadable look on his face.

Victor sat up straighter.  “I want to talk to JJ,” he said quickly.

Chris grinned.  “I was just about to ask if you were ready to see him.  I’ll have one of the men bring him up to you.”  He paused a second.  “Though I was hoping we might have a minute to talk first.”

Victor exhaled heavily.  “About what?”

“Well, I haven’t seen you since you crawled out of the sea like a mermaid yesterday, and I’ve had my hands full here.  Where’s Yuuri and the boys?”

“…The boys are fine.  Yuuri is…..”  Victor swallowed.  “That crooked merchant took him.”

“What?” Chris breathed more than said.  “Took him where?  Is he okay?”

“I chased after them as far as I could.  They’re definitely on their way to the city by now.  That’s why I need to finish this up quickly, so we can go get him.”

“Right.  I’ll go get JJ for you.”

Victor grinned at Chris, who smiled right back.  His first mate always pushed back when he needed to, but Christophe also recognized when the time for talk was over.

 

Victor swore he had never seen Jean-Jacques Leroy before, even though Christophe insisted that Victor had at least seen his wanted posters.  Still, Victor didn’t recognize the man standing before him in his cabin now, grinning wide even as Sara and her brother Michele stood guard on either side of him.  Michele looked like he could burst into tears at any minute; Victor figured he must have found out about his sister’s marriage.

Victor couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.  Sara had asked Victor personally to be moved from _Marzanna_ to _Fiery Maria_ about a year ago to get away from her overbearing brother.  He wasn’t even sure that the twins had spoken since then, and then for Michele to find out that she’d married Mila in the meantime, it must have felt like she wanted nothing to do with Michele at all anymore.  Well, Victor hoped they could sort it out on their own.  Maybe Michele would ease up and stop picking fights with every crewmember that so much as glanced at Sara.

JJ, however, looked almost elated.  His voice was obnoxiously loud as he declared, “So you’ve finally requested an audience with the king, I see.”

Victor furrowed his brow.  “Excuse me?”

JJ laughed.  “I understand, you’ve been out of the loop since you quit pirating.  These are my seas, Nikiforov, and before you know it, even all these ships will be mine.”

Sara grimaced.  “He hasn’t shut up once since we nabbed him.”

“Listen,” said Victor.  “First of all, I haven’t quit pirating.  Second, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you, so I won’t expect you to know you don’t run your mouth about things you can never do.  But, I do admire your passion, however misplaced.”

JJ raised an eyebrow.  “Funny you should say that, because up until a few days ago there was no sign of you on these waters or anywhere else.  I had my run of this place until you showed up and decided it was yours now.”  He shrugged.  “Or is that the way you do things now?  Let me get things shaken up first, then you swoop in and take what’s mine?”

Victor forced a smile and marveled at how quickly he’d gone from apathy to sincere hatred of this man.  “Unlike you, I don’t waste my time on small towns that can barely fight back.  I go for the big scores or not at all.  But that’s all right:  we all have to start somewhere.”

“I’ll have you know—”

“Captain,” Christophe said sharply.  “Don’t we have something else to discuss?”

“Right,” Victor replied, and cleared his throat.  “How much did Guang-Hong and Morita pay you for your part in this little deal?”

JJ narrowed his eyes.  “Why?”

“Because I’m going to pay you that same amount to take your crew and leave.”

“Excuse me?”  JJ burst out laughing.  “You can’t just pay me off!  Do you think I have no pride?”

“Well, it’s either that or I just shoot you right now.”  Victor pulled out his pistol and pointed it right at JJ’s head.  The laughter died immediately.  “I don’t really need your cooperation, but I’m just trying to be nice.”

“If you kill me, Isabella will have your head,” JJ blurted out.  “My whole crew too.  My girls are loyal to me.”

“I’m sure they are.  That’s one admirable thing about you.  But do you really think it’s worth it for you to hang out around here any longer?”  Victor pulled back the hammer on the pistol.

“Hold on a minute,” JJ said, raising his manacled hands.  “I’m telling you, Nikiforov, if you kill me you’ll have my whole fleet up your ass and I promise you don’t want that.”

“I’ve already told you what you have to do to avoid that.”

“You’re a fool.  I could name any price and you’ll pay it?  I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, your plan to take Hasetsu and then snuff me out is as good as dead now.  I’m giving you the chance to wash your hands of the whole thing and go about your business elsewhere.”

JJ grinned.  “You don’t know Guang-Hong, do you?  He’s not going to pack up and go home just because you found out about things earlier than planned.”

“Maybe not.  But a fight doesn’t scare me, JJ.  Really, I’m trying to do you a favor here.”

JJ glanced at the floor, lost in thought for a long while.  “I can’t give you an answer without Isabella’s input,” he said eventually.  “My first mate—my wife and I…we make decisions together.”

Victor set the gun down.  “Write up a letter to her.  We’ll send it over and get her reply.”

 

An hour later, Isabella’s response came.  She wanted a proper face-to-face meeting, agreeing to come over to the _Fiery Maria_ , though only above deck.  It was all right by Victor; it didn’t matter where JJ and Isabella were, Victor would get what he wanted no matter what.  He and Christophe stood by JJ on the deck and watched Isabella board the ship.  She had two of her crew with her, one of whom Victor recognized from the beach cave.  He flashed her a knowing smile as they strode up.

Isabella was shorter than Victor imagined, but there was a presence about her that he instantly acknowledged.  She couldn’t be much older than JJ, but something in her eyes spoke of a wisdom she’d probably rather not have.  Victor could only imagine:  the life of a pirate was hard for everybody, but the women always had an extra shell around them.

Despite all that, she wore a look of genuine relief as she saw JJ.  “JJ,” she said, her voice carrying the hint of a reprimand.  “What are you doing, babe?”

“I got careless,” JJ replied with a shrug and a grin.  “I’m sorry.”

Isabella turned her attention to Victor.  “So.  What’s this I hear about paying us off?”

“I read the letter he wrote you,” Victor said.  “I think he detailed it all very well.”

“It’s a little insulting to be shooed away like a bothersome kid, though.”

Victor bit back the temptation to tell her that those were the exact words he would use to describe her husband.  “I get it,” he said instead.  “We’ve all got our pride.  Is all this really worth it to you, though?”

“It is,” Isabella answered with no hesitation.

“Yeah?”  Victor didn’t break eye contact as he pulled out his gun again and pushed it against JJ’s temple.  Beside him, Christophe stiffened, but said nothing.  “How much?”

He saw Isabella’s jaw tighten.  “Really?  You thinking threatening him in front of me is going to change my mind?”

“If you don’t want the money, just say so.”

“The deal was thirty percent of whatever profits Guang-Hong brought in from picking off the trade routes.  There’s no actual number I can give you.”

“There aren’t going to be any profits, because once you and I are done here, I’m going to go kill Guang-Hong.”

Isabella held direct eye contact with Victor, and he could see a flicker of belief in her eyes.  Still, it was clear she wasn’t budging.

Victor put the pistol away; he could practically feel JJ let out a sigh of relief.  Then, Victor pulled out his shashka, and with one heavy, swift motion, plunged the tip through JJ’s foot and deep into the wood of the deck.

“Shit!” Isabella cried as JJ let out a scream and collapsed.  She drew her own gun as the girls beside her produced knives.  “You’re making a huge mistake, Nikiforov!”

“You see, that rage you’re feeling,” said Victor, leaning on his blade, “I know that anger.  The knowledge that some asshole is hurting the one you love, right in front of you, and you can’t take that pain away.  The desire to kill, to throw it all away if it means that you can fix it for them.”

Isabella pulled the hammer back.  “I’m glad you said it,” she snarled.  “Just so we’re both clear.”

“How much can you fix this, Isabella?” Victor asked, pulling the shashka free and stabbing a new wound into JJ’s foot.  His cries grew ragged, and Victor saw blood staining the deck.  “Sure, a few new holes in the foot, that’ll heal in time.  But what about no foot at all?”  He removed the shashka again and hovered the dark red blade over JJ’s calf.

Isabella’s eyes flitted from JJ to Victor and back again, and he could see the fury rattling through her body.  “You really ought to stop me,” Victor said, “before I go and do something that’ll ruin you both for good.”

The only sounds then were Isabella’s tight breathing and JJ’s agonized groans.  Victor was impressed that JJ remained conscious through the pain.  After several moments of silence, Victor raised his boot and brought his heel down on JJ’s still-bleeding injuries.

“ _Stop it!_ ” Isabella suddenly screamed, lowering her gun.  “Just stop it!”

“I want you and your fleet out of here,” Victor said, keeping his voice impassive.  “If I ever find you in Hasetsu’s waters again, I will come back, and I will take your husband’s leg, and yours as well.”

“You won’t be the fucking King of Gold forever,” Isabella said, shaking through her rage and tears.  “One day you’re gonna die and _nobody_ will give a shit.  They won’t remember you.”

“Maybe.”  Victor shrugged.

“Give him back to me.  I’ll go.  But touch him again and I’ll carve both your eyes out.”

“You can have him back, but first I need one other favor.”

“What favor?”

“Tell your crew to search your hold for a bolt of blue silk that you stole from a merchant ship a few weeks back.  Bring me the silk and I’ll give you back your captain.”

Isabella frowned, perplexed, but she decided not to press it.  “Girls, go do as he’s asked,” she said to her crew.  “I’m staying here with JJ until you get back.”

 

“I’ve never seen you like that,” Christophe said, later in Victor’s cabin.  Victor sat at his desk, a glass of warm vodka in his grip.  The bolt of silk was on Victor’s bed; Chris sat beside it, running his fingertips across the fine fabric.

“I had no other choice,” said Victor.  “I wasn’t lying when I told her I knew how she felt.”

“Still, you’ve never been cruel like that before.”  Chris paused, choosing his next words carefully.  “They were both young.  They’ve probably never truly had to face death like that before.  You were counting on that, weren’t you?”

Victor didn’t answer, and he emptied the vodka into his mouth before pouring a new glass.  There was an uneasy silence for a while, during which Victor downed another full glass.  Eventually, there was a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in,” Chris called.

The door opened and Mila entered, looking at Victor with concerned eyes.  “We received Guang-Hong’s response to your letter, Captain,” she said.

“And?” Victor asked.

“He accepts your offer.”

Victor grinned humorlessly.  “Good.”

Not long after sending JJ and Isabella on their way, Victor had sent a missive to Guang-Hong’s ship, offering him one chance to settle things.  The two captains would meet for a round of one-on-one combat, with the loser taking their fleet and leaving—that is, if the loser survived the round at all.  If Guang-Hong chose not to, then they’d do this the old-fashioned way, with untold losses to either side.  And since they’d been fighting each other since yesterday, it was likely that any further combat would destroy them both.

Chris bristled.  “Victor,” he said.  “You know that kid fights dirty.  It’s how he’s gotten as powerful as he is.  You don’t really trust him, do you?”

Victor didn’t respond.

“Look," Chris continued, “you understand that he could kill you, right?  What am I supposed to tell Yuuri if something happens to you?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Victor.  He touched the blue ribbon at the end of his braid, so frayed and dirty from all it had been through.  “I have protection.”

 

They met aboard a vessel designated neutral for their meeting.  In truth, it was one of Guang-Hong’s, but it had been overtaken by Victor’s crew the day before, only for it to be retaken and taken again for hours on end.  It was barely afloat now and of little value to either side.  Everyone had been cleared off deck save for Victor, Guang-Hong, and their respective first mates.

Guang-Hong was so _small_ , shorter than even Yuri who was supposedly younger.  If Victor didn’t know who he was, then the boy would give off absolutely no sense of danger whatsoever.  Being able to cobble together one of the biggest pirate fleets the world had ever seen served as a testament to his perseverance.  He had a lot to lose, and not a lot of experience with that type of loss.  He was, in that way, the same as JJ and Isabella:  there was a lot he had yet to see.  That was Victor’s one advantage.  A person never truly knew themselves until they’d been as low as they could be.

“Nice of you to meet me here,” Victor said, shashka in one hand and his pistol resting atop his shoulder.  “I want to get this over with before your bedtime.”

Guang-Hong rolled his eyes and pulled out his own cutlass.  “I always heard you were annoying, but I really had no idea.”

Victor laughed.  “Shall we get started?”  He pointed his blade in Guang-Hong’s direction.  “Let’s get the rules clear first.”

“First to yield or die loses,” Guang-Hong said.  “I also heard what you did to JJ.  If you try to harm my first mate or bring him into this in any way, expect that I’ll return the favor.”

“That’s fair.  But a good first mate would be willing to die for his captain.”

“I _would_ die for him,” Leo spat, his grip tightening around the hilt of his own weapon.

“It’s fine, Leo,” Guang-Hong told him.  “He just loves to hear himself talk.”

“You’re right, I do,” said Victor.  “Are you ready?”

Guang-Hong lifted his cutlass, grinned, and lunged with surprising speed.  Victor sidestepped and went in for his own attack, but Guang-Hong’s small stature afforded a quickness that was already causing a problem.

No matter.  Victor lived for challenges.  With the blue ribbon dancing in the air before him as he dodged attack after attack, Victor put every bit of frustration, despair, and thirst for revenge into his movements.  Guang-Hong was the one in front of him now, so Guang-Hong would be the one to pay.

_At least until I get my hands on that rat_ , he thought viciously.

Whenever Victor fought like this, all sound, sensation, and outside awareness disappeared.  He only heard his breath, Guang-Hong’s breath, and the slicing clash of steel on steel.  The creaking of the wooden deck beneath their dancing feet.  The smell of sweat, blood—he didn’t even know when the first blood was drawn, or whose it was.  Only that it was on his hands, slickening the grip of his shashka ever so slightly.  He fired a shot at Guang-Hong’s feet, making the boy captain stumble long enough for Victor to wipe his palm clean.

He _could_ just shoot Guang-Hong.  But that wouldn’t be enough.  Victor wanted the thrill, the knowledge that he was better, smarter, and stronger.  Things that he now knew, deep inside, were pointless in the grand scheme of things.  A life of piracy had taken root too deeply to resist this.  Maybe one day, he’d start to pluck it out.

So deeply entrenched was he in the duel, Guang-Hong meeting his every attack in a thoroughly impressive match, that he didn’t even notice the yelling until the smoke was in his eyes.  He shot at Guang-Hong again, grazing his cheek this time, and took in what was happening.

The boat was on fire all around them.  The fighting had resumed between the two fleets, and Christophe had his gun out as he screamed at Leo.

“You _do_ fight dirty,” Victor laughed.  He and Guang-Hong backed away from each other, a brief stalemate.  “But you know I expected something like this, don’t you?”

“I don’t really care if you did or not.  We’re not done here.”

They went right back into it.  Victor heard Christophe calling his name from far away, but it faded as the symphony of steel swelled again.  It soon became difficult to see Guang-Hong through the smoke, and the acrid scent of it filled his nose and lungs and mouth.  Victor pushed it all out of his mind.  He’d fought on burning ships before.

The world shook as one of the masts, engulfed in flames, crashed to the deck.  The whole ship shifted to an angle, seawater rushing in to replace the fire with steam and more smoke.  Through it all, Guang-Hong looked unshaken.

_This kid might actually be crazy_ , Victor thought.  _If he survives this maybe we could work together someday._

Someone called his name; it could have been Chris, or Mila, or anybody else on the crew.  Victor ignored it; nothing mattered except ending this fight.  He rushed towards Guang-Hong, careful of his footing on the unstable deck below him, and in the next instant, everything went dark and hot.

Victor collapsed and tried to get his bearings.  He was still conscious, though he quickly realized that a burning sail had fallen on him, miles of cloth threatening to drag him down into the sea and smoke.  Cursing, he clumsily shoved the shashka through the sail and cut a wide slit.  As he pushed his head free, he saw that the boat was all but completely in the water.

He saw the blade go through his chest before he felt it.  For a moment, he only stared, trying to discern if it was real.  He wracked his brain to figure out what had happened, when, and why.  Victor looked up and saw Guang-Hong, face bloodied and burned, chest heaving from the many small injuries Victor had inflicted upon him.  Only then did the pain arrive, flooding Victor’s every nerve.

Guang-Hong wasn’t smiling.  There was no sense of victory or pride in his eyes.  Only exhaustion and relief.  With one final exhale Guang-Hong turned away, and Victor knew nothing more.

 

Christophe hadn’t slept for more than twenty minutes at a time in nearly a week.  After what had happened to Victor, everyone had been looking to Chris to determine what to do now.  Hasetsu had sustained some casualties, and most of the damage had been done to the market and port.  Although _Fiery Maria_ had mostly survived the battle, _Marzanna_ was lost.  Emil had been inconsolable about it for days, even though the crew had managed to take a few of Guang-Hong’s stragglers for their own.

Victor’s crew had been accepted into Hasetsu with almost no pushback from the townsfolk.  Everyone had seen the way Victor drove away both JJ and Guang-Hong, saving their town from certain pirate domination.  Everywhere Chris went, he saw the crew and the civilians rebuilding Hasetsu together, as if they had been family for years.  Even Yuri was on better behavior; he visited Yuuri’s friend Yuuko every day to help her with her babies.

Mila and Sara had taken to Minako, Yuuri’s mentor, rather quickly.  At the beginning, Minako had refused to even talk to anybody except the two of them, but she’d warmed up to the rest of the crew, including Christophe, in time.  Michele drowned his sorrows over Sara’s marriage by helping Yuuri’s mother at the restaurant, where the part-timer Minami needled him endlessly for stories of pirating adventures.  It was surreal, in a way.  Chris had never seen the crew on such good behavior, but he could tell that they only busied themselves to distract from the question looming on everyone’s minds.

Pulling Victor from the ocean had been absolutely nothing short of a miracle.  Chris could still see the sail coming down on him, could see Guang-Hong immediately charging forward to plunge his cutlass into Victor’s chest just as he cut himself free.  Chris had almost died himself trying to get to him before he was lost to the waves.  The fact that Guang-Hong had left the blade in Victor’s chest was probably what saved him in the end.  Chris would never be able to repay the people of Hasetsu for saving his life, especially after all that had happened.

That was two weeks ago.  Victor had stayed unconscious this whole time, only vaguely murmuring in his sleep.  The injury to his chest was severe, and even when he did wake up, Chris wasn’t sure how long it would take him to fully recover.  One of Victor’s arms was broken, and a stray piece of driftwood had cut so deeply into Victor’s leg that it may need to be amputated later.  Chris was in and out of the clinic every day, watching Victor as he laid motionless on the bed, leaving only to clear his head or when he couldn’t bear the thought of watching him die.

He still wasn’t sure how he was going to give Victor the news when he opened his eyes again.  He’d been rehearsing it for days, trying to find the words, the tone…he’d even thought of saying nothing at all.  In his darkest moments, part of him hoped that Victor would never wake up, just so Chris could be spared the pain of telling him, and Victor could be spared the pain of loss.

He didn’t have much longer to think about it.  Christophe was eating at Yuuri’s parents’ restaurant when Georgi came in.

“Chris,” Georgi said, his voice light and excited.  “Captain’s awake.”

Chris’ heart tightened.  “Is he all right?”

“Yeah!”  Georgi nodded.

Christophe practically ran to the clinic.  He knew that Georgi had told him first, before anybody else got the news.  There wouldn’t be too much time before Victor was bombarded with other visitors.  The doctor let Chris in, and Chris felt his knees go weak at the sight of Victor’s smiling face.

“Shit,” Christophe cursed, stumbling over to Victor’s bedside.  “Shit, shit, shit…you’re all right.”

He grabbed Victor’s hand and squeezed as tightly as he dared.  Victor squeezed back, his grip pitifully weak and cold.  On the other side of the bed, Makkachin whined loudly.  She hadn’t left Victor’s side for two weeks, growling at everybody that approached him.

Neither man said a word for a while.  Chris sat down in a chair, holding Victor’s hand and pressing his forehead into the blankets.  He hadn’t realized until just this moment how devastated he would have been to lose his dearest friend.  It scared him.  Death was a constant companion on the seas, but no matter how much a person thought they could handle it, nobody ever knew for sure.  Chris knew now that Victor’s death would have destroyed him.  There was no gratitude deep enough to express how thankful Chris was that Victor had come back.

“You’re such an idiot,” Chris said at length, lifting his head.  “God, why didn’t you get out when I told you to?”

Victor’s smile was weak but genuine.  “You’ll have to remind me what I did this time.  Last I remember, I was about to fight Guang-Hong.  Did he kill me?  Are we both dead, old friend?”

“No,” Chris laughed.  “Regrettably, we’re both alive.  But Hasetsu is safe.  Things are even starting to look normal again.”

Victor nodded, a faraway look in his eyes as he tried to reel in the vestiges of his memory.  Chris didn’t miss the way his eyes searched the room.

“What’s happened?” Victor asked.

“It’s been two weeks,” Chris explained.  “I pulled you out of the wreckage myself.  Guang-Hong must have decided that the whole thing was more trouble than it was worth, and he’s been out of the picture since your duel.  It’s been…quiet, relatively speaking.”

Silence.  Then, the question Christophe had been dreading:  “Where’s Yuuri?”

Chris took in a shaky breath and gripped Victor’s hand tighter.  “Victor,” he said, forcing his voice to stay steady.  “Please look at me.”

Victor obliged, but his already pale face grew another shade whiter.

Chris took another deep breath.  “After things calmed down, I sent a bunch of the crew to the city to try to find Yuuri.  When they came back, they told me that they’d located which ship that he and Morita took, but….”  Silence.  “It…sank.”

“What?”  Victor blinked at him, and quietly slipped his hand out of Chris’s grip.

“Th-there had been…a mishap with the lighthouse that night.”  Chris couldn’t look at him.  “The ship crashed on the rocks a few miles out from the city harbor.  There have been rescue efforts, but…no survivors have yet been found.”

Deafening silence.  Chris only heard Makkachin’s whines and his own strained exhales.  After some time, he began to wonder if Victor understood what he had said.

“You’re sure that’s the ship he was on?”

Chris looked up; Victor’s eyes were glassy, and his whole body seemed to wither.

“We’re still looking, Victor,” Chris tried to reassure him.  “Otabek and Yuri insisted on going; they’re double checking everything, on my orders.  If there’s any chance we made a mistake, if there’s the smallest lead that will bring him back to us, I’ve told them to do absolutely anything they need to do.  The boys are in the city now, and they’re looking for him.”

“But the ship sank?” Victor repeated.  Chris had never once heard such defeat in Victor’s voice.

“It did.”

“…Oh.”

Victor laid back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling.  His eyes grew more glazed, and the muscles at his throat writhed with suppressed agony.  Victor raised a hand and pressed his palm against his eyes.

Chris sat on the mattress and put his arm around Victor’s shoulders, silently listening to the first tears he’d ever seen the man shed.  He held the small, weak frame to his own body, holding the storm of sorrow together as best he could.

 

_“My voice in the room broke the silence,_

_Everybody killed me with their eyes..._

_What I was to hear made the people cry,_

_Impossible for me to keep the tears inside_

_’All on board the White Pearl have died,_

_Coastal reef has tolled their lives_

_And you are the light of the night’”_

_\- “White Pearl, Black Oceans…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/)   
>  [Tumblr](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to change up some of the warnings on this bad boy because of pirate-related violence; just to be safe!
> 
> Look at me actually updating twice in one month! I couldn't help myself, I'm so hype we're finally at this part in the story, there was nothing else I could do, man.
> 
> Please enjoy!! <3

_“Oh invisible bride where is your dress?_   
_Oh invisible, darling, your voice is tenderness…_

_…There you go into the sea_   
_This is losing; this is love; this is me”_

_\- “Oh Invisible”_

 

The fever was making Victor miserable, but he didn’t even care.  When he was awake, he was drenched in sweat despite the constant shivers, starving but unable to keep anything down, and sore all over though he hadn’t moved in days.  He slept often, and dreamed of the sea.  Sometimes he dreamt of sinking, other times he was merely sailing across the endless expanse of blue.  Sometimes Yuuri would even be there, either at his side or as a mermaid swimming alongside the ship, outpacing Victor and disappearing into the dark water.

Every time he woke, he hoped that Yuuri would be there.  He couldn’t remember which parts of what Christophe told him had really happened and which parts were a hallucination.  Victor had hallucinated a few times already.  Sometimes he did see Yuuri.  Sometimes the old captain came to see him, or even his commanding officer from a lifetime ago.

Victor never thought about his life before he was a pirate.  Everything had converged in such a way that it seemed pointless to dwell on it or even regret anything.  There was no use in wondering what if he hadn’t committed the theft that got him sentenced to the military in the first place, or what if their ship hadn’t taken that route that day and been run down by Captain Yakov.  What if Yakov had killed everyone instead of giving the crew the option of joining him?  If Victor hadn’t been seething from his third beating that week, would he have taken the offer?

All pointless questions.  No use in wondering about any of them.

Victor didn’t know why now, of all times, he found himself turning those events over and over in his head.  Perhaps he was finally about to die.  He’d see Yuuri then.  He wouldn’t be alive and suffering now, directionless and without purpose.

Why then, didn’t he just give up?  He could sleep and simply refuse to wake up.  He could refuse the medicine the doctor forced on him, medicine better used on Hasetsu’s own than a failed pirate.  And yet, he wouldn’t.

He didn’t believe Yuuri was really dead.  Not in the deepest parts of his heart did Victor believe that for a moment.  Shipwrecks spat out survivors all the time.  Especially ones as close to shore as Yuuri’s ship had been.  No, there was still a chance.  Victor wouldn’t believe a thing until he laid eyes on Yuuri’s face again, whether death had claimed him or not.

So Victor stayed alive.  He ate when Chris told him to eat, took the medicine without a fuss, and did his best to stand on the leg that had barely managed to avoid amputation.  He felt like a newborn child trying to use his legs again after so long abed.  While the doctor had said he could keep both legs, the wood that cut into his thigh had gone frighteningly deep, and Victor might have a limp from now on.  It didn’t matter.  As long as he could move, Victor didn’t care either way.

Yuuri’s family came to visit him more than once.  Yuuri’s mother Hiroko brought him food and fussed over him as though he were her own child.  Yuuri’s father Toshiya snuck alcohol in for Victor and shared the town gossip with him.  The only one that Victor couldn’t quite read was Yuuri’s sister Mari.  She almost never came to see him alone, but she did bring Vicchan each time.  The puppy was ecstatic to see Victor and kept trying to climb into his bed.  Mari, though, just watched Victor with unreadable eyes, and Victor found himself unable to meet her gaze.  He could see blame in them.  Even though Mari never said so aloud, he knew that she held him at least somewhat responsible for all that had happened.

It was a few weeks before Yuri and Otabek returned from the city.  They had the look of men being led to the gallows when they stood in Victor’s room and told him they’d found no trace of Yuuri.

“There were some survivors,” Yuri explained while Otabek stared at the floor.  “We tracked down as many as we could.  Some of them remembered seeing Yuuri, others didn’t remember a damn thing.  I’m sorry, Captain…we really did try everything.”

Victor looked down at the hand attached to his broken arm.  The bone was healing quickly, and he might be able to get the cast off soon.  He flexed his fingers, feeling a ghost of pain shoot all the way up to his shoulder.

“Captain,” Otabek said suddenly, his voice weary, yet determined.  “I…I have to confess.”

Victor looked up and frowned.  “What?”

“It’s my fault,” said Otabek.

“Beka, stop,” Yuri insisted, grabbing his shoulder.  Otabek shrugged him off.  “Beka, I told you, you didn’t do anything wrong!”

Otabek ignored him.  “Before me and Yuri left the house that day…Yuri had a bad feeling about leaving your Yuuri there with that guy,” he continued, the words spilling out like they had been rehearsed, but were now behaving all on their own.  “I…I didn’t think there was a problem.  I even asked your Yuuri and he said he was fine, but…I shouldn’t have left him there.  I should have listened to Yuri when he said it felt wrong.  It’s my fault, Captain.  If I hadn’t left him alone he would be safe now.”

Victor blinked, unsure of exactly what to say.

Otabek clenched his fists.  “I’m ready for whatever punishment you think I’m deserving of.”

“Wait!” Yuri shouted.  “Otabek, you’re being stupid!”  He turned to Victor.  “Don’t punish him for this, if anything it’s my fault because I didn’t push hard enough!”

“Both of you, hush,” Victor said.  “Otabek, listen to me.”

Otabek lifted his eyes, but not a hint of stress left his body.

“You’re one of my best men,” Victor told him in earnest.  “You’re trustworthy.  I know that you’ll always do what I ask to the fullest of your ability.  You’ve been invaluable in teaching Yuri here the ropes.  Not only would it be stupid of me to kill you, but it would be undeserved.”

Otabek said nothing, only continued clenching his fists.

Victor took a breath.  “What happened to Yuuri is only one person’s fault, and that person isn’t you.  I need you with me if we’re going to find him.  You’ve done nothing wrong, do you understand?”

“I…okay,” Otabek said, clearly taken aback by the forgiveness.  He’d been fully ready to die for his perceived transgression.  That alone showed Victor how invaluable Otabek’s loyalty really was.  Victor was lucky to have him as part of his crew.

“I’m going back to the city,” Victor said.  “You don’t have to come along if you’d rather stay here in Hasetsu.  But I’m going to find him.”

“Captain,” Yuri replied, sounding defeated.  “We checked everywhere.”

“I believe that you did.  But the search isn’t over.  He could have washed up in a completely different town for all we know.”  Victor looked down at his hands, scarred and sunburn.  “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Are you well enough?” Otabek asked warily.

“Of course I am,” Victor replied, though he was unsure if that was actually true.

Yuri crossed his arms and flashed Victor his best scowl.  “I don’t know why you’d even say that we don’t wanna go.  I mean…I want to find him too, so I don’t have to listen to you whining about it for months.”

In spite of everything, Victor laughed.  It pained his ribs and most of his body, but a weight fell away all the same.

 

Christophe’s heated opinions kept Victor abed for one more day, and then Victor began preparations to leave.  Emil and the _Marzanna_ crew decided to stay in Hasetsu for a while, and Mila and the rest of the _Fiery Maria_ crew were more than ready to head off to the city with Victor in search of Yuuri.  Walking drained Victor’s energy faster than he’d like, but he’d get used to it in time.  Once they were at sea, Victor would be able to rest again.

On the morning they were set to leave, Victor went to the Katsuki restaurant to say his goodbyes.

“Be safe, Victor,” Hiroko told him, shoving a large basket of what smelled like freshly baked pastries at him.  She wrapped her arms around him and hugged tight, and Victor didn’t even mind the pain.  When she pulled away, she was smiling though her eyes were glassy with restrained tears.  Victor swore right then that he would not stand in front of this woman again without definitive news of her son.

Mari’s eyes were, as usual, unreadable.  A lit cigarette hung from her lips, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay to sail?” she asked Victor.  She didn’t look at him; her attention was on Vicchan, the puppy whining restlessly in her arms.

“I’m fine,” Victor replied.  “I’ve gone through worse than this.”

Mari nodded tightly.  She inhaled, long and hard, and exhaled. 

Victor steeled himself what for he was to say next.  “May I…ask one favor of you?”

“What’s that?”  Mari didn’t so much as glance at him.

“There’s something I need to bring to Yuuri when I find him.  It’s in his room.  May I…may I go get it?”

Mari’s eyes flicked up.  She looked over at her mother, who only continued smiling and nodded slightly.  Mari set Vicchan down and gestured for Victor to follow her inside.

Climbing the stairs to Yuuri’s room was an ordeal.  Victor felt like he aged twenty years with the effort he put into it.  Vicchan followed him the whole way, waiting patiently as he ascended each step.  At the top, Mari opened Yuuri’s door, and the memories of the nights Victor had snuck in through his window came flooding back.

He didn’t know if the dizziness was from the pain in his leg or the familiar smells and sights and air of this place.  It looked so small now, the unused bed made up neatly, the curtains fluttering in the early morning breeze, the mess of papers and fabric on the worktable.  Victor caught himself staring at the floor, the exact spot where he’d kissed Yuuri for the first time, a miracle that had sent him reeling.

Vicchan leapt up on Yuuri’s bed, sniffed the pillows, and whined.

“He snuck you up in here somehow, didn’t he?” asked Mari, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Victor gave her a lopsided grin.  “You could say that.”

“Ah, who’d have guessed?”  Mari stretched her arms and chuckled.  “My baby brother.  He always was growing up too fast.”

The smile faded off her face as quickly as it had come.  “You know, part of me wants to ask to come with you,” she murmured after a brief silence.

For a moment, Victor actually considered it.  But before he could say anything, she continued:  “I can’t, though.  I have things to do here.  I’m only trusting you because of what you did for our town.  And because Minako seems to trust you, and she hates pirates more than anybody I know.”  Another pause.  “And Yuuri trusted you too.”

_For all the good that did him_ , Victor thought.  “I’ll bring him home, Mari.  I promise.”

Mari coughed in that way that was meant to mask tears.  “So what do you need from here?”

Victor glanced to the dress form in the corner.  There was the bodice of a dress there, with a frayed hem where a skirt had been cut away.  Blue silk, silver sequins.  It was Yuuri’s dress, just as he’d described it.  Victor approached it and gently brushed away a layer of dust that had gathered.

“He was working on this,” Victor said, and began to remove the dress from the form.

Vicchan barked as Victor began to fold up the cloth.  He jumped off the bed and stood up on his hind legs, sniffing furiously at the dress.  He sat back down and began to whine.

“Take him with you,” Mari said suddenly.

Victor frowned.  “What?”

“I can’t go so I’m sending him in my place,” Mari continued, speaking quickly as if she didn’t want to change her mind.  “Maybe…maybe he’ll help find Yuuri somehow.  He’s a good dog.  He knows Yuuri’s scent, and….”

Mari never finished her sentence as tears finally fell from her eyes.

 

The whole town saw the crew off.  With Emil and his crew remaining in town, Hasetsu would be safe for a good while.  Minako hugged Victor tight, punched him in the arm no fewer than three times, and swore she’d kill him if he dared return empty-handed.  It was as good as a blessing from her. 

Vicchan was beyond excited to be on a ship, and even more excited that he got to see Makkachin again.  The two dogs were inseparable from the moment they laid eyes on each other.  Vicchan followed her everywhere, and Victor trusted that in her own way, Makkachin would look after the puppy.

For now, all Victor looked forward to was sleep.  It was a few days’ journey across the water to the capital city:  a few days that Mila and Christophe could handle the crew on their own.  So Victor went to his cabin, crawled into his old bed, and tried not to think of anything.

Of course, he got no sleep, and his brain never shut off.  He thought of plans and backup plans, turning everything over in his head and thinking of every possible contingency for how to find Yuuri.  First, he’d go back over what Otabek and Yuri had found out in the city.  He’d find the official lists of survivors, dead, and missing.  He’d send the crew to search every nook and cranny of town.  Victor would pay every piece of gold he owned for information from anyone.

If the search in the capital turned up nothing, they’d move on to the next city.  Just because the ship had crashed outside of the capital port didn’t mean that everyone would have washed up there.  Some might have drifted or landed at other beaches.  It was also possible that Yuuri had tried to make his way back to Hasetsu on his own somehow.

The overwhelming scale of the search was enough to crush him, and Victor let it.  There was no plan for what he would do if he found Yuuri dead, or if he didn’t find him at all.  He’d search everywhere that he could, but he would never step foot in Hasetsu again without knowing what happened to Yuuri.  He’d search until his crew abandoned him, he’d search until his own body deteriorated and he grew old and blind.  Even if he had to deliver the news to Hiroko’s graveside, he’d give her the truth one day.

 

A knock at the door resonated through Victor’s dreams.  He groaned, blinking his eyes, and rolled over.  The knock came again, and he sat up straight.

“What?” he called.

“It’s me,” came Chris’ voice.

“Come in then.”

Christophe entered the room, glancing over at the empty bottles atop Victor’s desk.  He cleared his throat, clearly biting back whatever he wanted to say about it, and said, “We have a lead.”

“Oh, do we?” Victor asked bitterly.  “Is it the same lead from three months ago that turned out to be a huge waste of time?  Or another drunk liar that wanted to cheat me out of all my money?”

“Don’t be like that,” Chris snapped.  “You knew this would be hard.  I’m doing what _you_ asked, if you remember.”

Victor laid back down and threw his arm over his eyes.

Eight months they’d been searching.  Eight months of scouring the capital city, searching the towns up and down the coast, even looking further inland.  There had been leads.  Victor quickly learned to discern the real ones from the fake, of which there had been frustratingly many.  Getting information about Morita had been more promising than any information on Yuuri.  And yet, they had not been able to find either of them.

“Well, what is it then?” Victor asked.

“We found the merchant.  For real this time.”

Victor peeked out from behind his arm.  “How do you know it’s really him?”

“Sara found him last night.  He’s using a different name now but it’s definitely him.”

Victor sat up slowly, watching Chris’ face.  His first mate stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking rather proud of himself.  “I got Otabek and Yuri keeping an eye on him, but so far he doesn’t know we’re onto him,” Chris continued.  “So it’s up to you now.  I can get the boys to nab him or you can go meet him yourself.”

“Where’s he at?” Victor asked, flexing his fingers.

“A gambling house.  Sara says he comes in there about twice a week.”

“And he’s there now?”

“Yep.”

Victor breathed out and stood up.  His leg had never healed completely, but he was much steadier on it now than he had been.  He considered for only a moment before his mind was made up.

Chris wouldn’t have told him something so definitive without confirming it first himself.  They’d both had enough disappointments in this endeavor.  This was finally something promising.

“I’ll go,” Victor declared.

 

Sara was just as good as Christophe at blending in just about everywhere.  Although the crew had only docked in this town a few days ago, she already knew the names of every bartender at every tavern and more than a handful of town gossip.  She and Chris working together had proved invaluable in getting even the smallest leads.  And tonight it led them here, to a high-end gambling house in the center of town.

Victor walked in, wearing his favorite pink velvet coat and peacock feather hat.  Christophe was beside him, carrying at least three concealed pistols.  Yuri and Otabek came as well; Victor had finally allowed Yuri to carry a gun with him, given that he practiced with Chris every day.  He was now the best shot out of the entire crew, and had even started asking Georgi about how to work the cannons.  Georgi, as a matter of fact, had come as well, along with Mila.  Victor wanted as many of his crew with him as he could spare when he came to see Morita.  He would put the fear of God in the man if it was the last thing he did.

Sara waved at them from across the room as they came in.  She leapt up and threw her arms around Mila, kissing her deeply on the lips.

“You’re just in time, Captain,” Sara said as she pulled away from her wife.  “He’s back in one of the private card rooms now.”

Victor smiled.  “Perfect.  Lead the way, Sara.”

She led the entourage down a back hallway to the very last door on the left.  A young kid, likely no older than Yuri, sat on a stool outside the door with his nose in a book.  At the sound of the pirates’ footsteps, he looked up and instantly paled.

“Don’t mind us, kid,” Christophe told him.  “We just need to chat with an old friend.”

“Y-y-you…can’t go in there,” the boy stammered helplessly.

Victor glanced at him, then at Chris.  The two men burst out laughing, and Victor kicked the door in.

The small, smoky room held a single table, around which were five men, four of whom Victor didn’t recognize.  The fifth he would know even in a hurricane.  Morita’s face went from annoyed to ghost white as he laid eyes on the man he never expected to meet again outside of hell.  The other men sat petrified as Victor and his crew drew their weapons.

“Hisashi Morita,” Victor announced, grinning even as the rage shook him down to his bones.  “I’ve been looking for you.”

“There’s no one here by that name,” one of the other men blurted out.  “You’re mistaken.”

Victor laughed.  “Oh right.  What name did you say he was using again, Sara?”

“Masuyo Hamasaki,” Sara said, staring Morita in the eyes as she spoke.

The other men at the table all turned to Morita then, who still hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Everyone out,” Victor said.  “One more word and I’m putting bullets in people.”

The men fell over each other as they dashed out of the room.  Once only Morita was left, Chris shut the door, then it was silent.

Victor took a step forward and Morita jumped up from his chair like he’d been scalded.  He hastily backed up, but Mila and Georgi had posted up behind him.  By the time he realized he was surrounded by the crew, Victor approached him and struck him once, hard, on the temple with the butt of his pistol.

Morita fell to the floor and cried, “Don’t kill me, don’t kill me!!  Please, my daughter…Satsuki needs me, please don’t….”

Victor ignored his cries and drove the heel of his boot into his stomach, grinding down with all his strength until the screams became unbearable.  Victor reached back and pulled a chair out from the table, then hoisted Morita up by the front of his shirt and threw him into it.  Morita raised his hands up as Victor pointed the gun at his face.  Blood dripped down from the merchant’s forehead onto his impeccable, expensive shirt.

The merchant looked the same as he had the last time Victor laid eyes on him.  In fact, he almost looked better.  If not for the elongated scar across his face, there would be no indication that he’d been in a shipwreck at all.  It only served to stoke the flames of Victor’s anger.

“I thought you were dead,” Morita breathed, shaking with fear.  “How did you find me?”

“You took something of mine,” Victor said.  He forced himself to keep his finger off the trigger, not trusting himself not to blow Morita’s brains out the moment he said another word.  “You’ve caused me a whole lot of trouble, do you know that?”  He pulled back the hammer on the gun, just to scare him, just to make some noise.

It worked.  Morita jumped like a skittish cat and blurted out, “Please, please, don’t kill me, I beg you!”

Victor smacked him across the face again with the gun.  “Tell me where Yuuri is.  Right now.”

Morita blinked, confusion in his eyes.  “Y-Yuuri?” he repeated.

Fury welled up like a maelstrom in Victor.  “Otabek,” he said, gesturing for him to come over.

Otabek nodded and stepped forward.  He grabbed Morita’s arm and laid it out across the table, brandishing a knife and hovering the blade over his fingers.  “Pick your least favorite,” he said, glaring with his devil eyes.

“I don’t know!” Morita screamed.  “I swear I don’t know!”

Victor grit his teeth so hard he felt his jaw crack.  “Don’t you _fucking_ lie to me!” he roared, stomping into the instep of Morita’s foot.  “Otabek, do it!”

With only a half-breath of hesitation, Otabek sliced through the lowest joint of Morita’s little finger.  Blood poured over the table, staining the playing cards.  Morita’s howls must have been heard through the entire building.  Victor grabbed the front of Morita’s shirt again and shook him.

“If you get to a doctor quickly enough maybe they can reattach it for you,” Victor hissed.  “ _If._   But that’s up to you.  Last chance, you son of a bitch.  Where.  Is.  Yuuri.”

“Okay-okay-okay!” Morita stammered, breathing in deep as he tried to keep his eyes away from his mutilated hand.  “This is what happened.”

“You leave nothing out,” Victor warned him, pushing the muzzle of the gun into the soft underside of his chin.

“All right,” Morita breathed, nodding hastily.  “We got on the ship, all right?  It crashed a few miles outside of town.  Most of the passengers died but some of us got out.  …Satsuki, my daughter, she lost her hearing in her right ear, all right?  It’s been hard on her.”

Victor pushed the gun in harder and steeled his gaze.  Deep down, he was relieved to hear that the girl was all right.  But she wasn’t his concern right now.

“She and I made it to shore together but Yuuri washed up somewhere else.  I did my best to find him.”

“And?” Victor growled, stamping down the acute fear within him.

“He….”  Morita swallowed nervously.  “He’d been found in the next town over.  He washed up there.  I found him and when he saw me he was furious.  He threatened me, you know?  Said he’d tell everybody about what I did in Hasetsu.  Not that it would matter, plenty of others were in on it….”  He paused, and swallowed again.  “He said he’d tell my daughter.  He said she would never look at me the same way again if she knew.”

He fell silent, staring at the ground.  The scent of blood in the room grew thicker, and Victor’s heart raced with anger and fear.

“S-so I…w-we worked out an arrangement.”  Morita averted his eyes.  “He promised not to say anything to Satsuki…and in exchange, I promised to help him get home.”

Victor closed his eyes and breathed in deep through his nose.  “Listen to me, you snake,” he said.  “I told you not to lie to me.  Tell me what really happened or I will have Otabek remove your entire thieving hand.”

Morita paused, chewing his lip as his eyes darted around the room.  Victor immediately realized the cause of his uncertainty:  it meant that the truth might make Victor even angrier, and he’d do more than take a hand.

The thought sent Victor into a rage and he slammed his fist down on the table.  “What did you do to him!?” he shouted.  “What did you do, you bastard?!”

“I hit him,” Morita tearfully confessed, shrinking back from Victor’s fury.  “I swear, I didn’t mean to, it just happened!  I was just frustrated over everything that had happened, all the money I lost, and Satsuki….”

Victor hit the table again and very nearly pulled the trigger on his pistol.  “Do I look like I care about your fucking money?!”

“I’m sorry!  He just—I lost it, there’s no excuse, I know….”

“I don’t think you’re fucking sorry at all,” Victor growled.  “I bet you loved it, didn’t you?  I bet that wasn’t the only time.”

Victor shot a glance to Otabek, who instantly moved the knife over to another finger.

“Okay, all right, it’s true!” Morita yelled.  “Th-that wasn’t…it wasn’t the only time.  He was threatening to ruin me!!  I needed to recoup the money I’d lost, and I told him if he helped me then I would send him back to Hasetsu if he wanted.”

“What did you threaten him with?” Victor asked, his whole body shaking with anger.

“I-I told him…that if he didn’t work for me….”  Morita stopped.  He didn’t want to admit it.  He was a coward, just like Victor always knew he was.  Otabek pushed the blade down harder and Morita blurted out, “I said if he refused to help me then I would cripple his hands so he could never sew again.”

The air went out of Victor’s lungs.  He stared wide-eyed at Morita, the cowardly snake of a man who was more of a monster than Victor himself had ever been.

“A-and then…to make him believe me…I-I broke three of his fingers on his left hand,” Morita added quickly, scraping up every piece of truth he could, no matter how vile, so Victor would be satisfied.

“You motherfucker!!”

The cry came from Otabek, knife shaking as he held it tightly in his hand, eyes blazing with horror.  Otabek drove his elbow deep into Morita’s temple, then he grabbed the man’s head and pointed the blade just beneath his eye.

“I should have knifed you the instant I saw you,” Otabek growled.  “I never should have left Yuuri alone with you, you fucking pig.”  The knife sliced the skin below Morita’s eye as the tip edged closer.  Morita dared not move beneath Otabek’s gaze, whimpering quietly at the closeness of the knife.

“Where is he now?” Victor asked.  The anger now was so great that he felt calm.  He was like the tranquil waters of a riptide, a quick and silent danger.

“The city north of here.  He lives with me and Satsuki but he works at the theatre house there.  He’s there almost all the time.  He comes home to eat and give me my money.  But I swear to you that’s where he is.  I swear on Satsuki’s life.”

“A theatre?” came Chris’ voice.  “The Baranovskaya Theatre?”

Morita nodded hastily.  “Yes, yes, that’s the one.”

“I know that one,” Chris said, something wistful in his voice.  “I can take us straight there.”

Victor nodded.  To Morita, he said, “I have one last question for you.”

“Anything.  Anything,” the merchant replied.

Victor got down close to Morita’s face and dropped his voice, low and serious.  “Did you ever— _ever_ —touch Yuuri?”

“N-no,” said Morita, but the split second of hesitation was not lost on Victor.

“Otabek,” Victor said, and just as Otabek’s knife was about to move, Morita yelled.

“A little, just a little!!” he screamed.  “But it’s not what you think, I swear!  It was only a few kisses, nothing more than that, I swear to you, Victor!  Never more than that!”

Victor sensed truth in his words.  Still, even that much was unforgivable.  He raised his pistol and shot Morita in the foot.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Victor said, holstering the gun amid the wild screams of the other man.  “Remember my mercy on you, and know that you were not worth an ounce of it.”

 

Victor stepped outside and breathed in the clear night air.  He doubled over and coughed, pushing down the desire to vomit.  The smell of smoke and blood in the small room had felt too thick, despite having smelled much worse in his life.  He chalked it up to a mixture of relief and brand new anxiety.  He knew was Yuuri was now…but had he been too late?

“Victor,” came Chris’ voice.  Victor felt Chris’ hand on his back, and he straightened up.

“We found him,” Victor said.  His voice was shaking.  This blend of euphoria and horror was too much, and it was making him sick.  “Chris, we found him.”

Chris smiled.  “I think we did, my friend.”

Victor stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Christophe.  He squeezed him tight, hoping that Chris could feel every bit of gratitude Victor had ever held for him over the years.  He didn’t ever thank Chris enough.  Without him, Victor would never have gotten this far.

There was no telling how long they embraced.  Finally, when they pulled apart, Victor felt renewed, and he breathed out a long, shuddering breath.

“Shall we be on our way then?” asked Christophe with a wide smile.

“Yes, let’s.”

_I’m coming, Yuuri.  I’ll be there soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno guys, do you think Morita got what he deserved or does he need a few more good smacks?
> 
> I love you all, your readership and encouragement and love mean the world to me <3 There's still a bit more to go on this journey and we're all gonna get there togther. Hugs and kisses for all!
> 
> Come visit me at my my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kind words! This chapter has something you've all been waiting for for a very long time....please enjoy, you've earned it <3

_“Can you hear the sirens resound?_  
 _from the coastline of Ireland tonight_  
 _it's the song of a promising heart_  
 _of the souls that the ocean unite_  
  
_and she stands by the window alone_  
 _staring into the rain_  
 _she is trying to guide his way home_  
 _from the waters that keep them apart”_

_\- “A Sailorman’s Hymn”_

 

 

Victor and Chris arrived in town less than a day later, chauffeured by a carriage whose driver didn’t ask any questions after receiving double his usual fee.  It was only after Victor alighted that he realized he knew this town, though he hadn’t been back for years.  Long ago, when old Captain Yakov had retired and bequeathed some of his riches to Victor, he’d holed himself up here to live out the rest of his days with no headaches.  Victor had come to see him a few times, usually to ask for money, but ever since making a name for himself as the King of Gold, Victor hadn’t so much as written Yakov.  Victor wondered if the old man was even still alive.

This city was too big and too populated for _Fiery Maria_ to make port here.  She’d be recognized in an instant, so Mila was sailing the ship to a hidden natural harbor a few miles outside of town to wait for them.  Victor didn’t expect to be here for longer than a day or two.

“Chris,” Victor asked as his first mate was paying the carriage driver an extra tip.

“Hmm?”

“Have you heard from Yakov lately?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Chris replied.  “If the man isn’t dead by now he’s probably avoiding you to keep his blood pressure down.”

Victor smirked.  “Well, see if you can track him down.  I’m going to go get Yuuri.”  Finally getting to even say those words was dizzying.  It was finally real.  He might even have Yuuri in his arms tonight.

“Uh, I’m coming with you,” Christophe announced matter-of-factly.

“There’s no need.  I can find the theatre on my own.”

Chris looked sheepish, a strange expression on his usually sure face.  “Uh…Victor, I’d just like to go with you, okay?”

Victor raised an eyebrow, and Chris exhaled a defeated sigh.

“The Baranovskaya Theatre is…it’s where Masumi is.”  Chris’ voice was soft, and he looked embarrassed to even admit this much.

“Oh,” said Victor.  Chris hadn’t talked about his ex-fiancé in years.  He’d never wanted to.  And he’d certainly never given Victor the impression that he was thinking about going to find him again.

“It’s just that…" Chris continued, “the way you’ve gone through all this for Yuuri, everything you’ve put yourself through, everything you’ve put _me_ through…it’s sort of…reignited something in me, I guess.”  He glanced down at the white gold band on his finger, the single memento of something he hadn’t been able to save.  “I just want to see him again, that’s all.”

Victor grinned wide and slung his arm over Chris’ shoulders, nearly toppling his first mate over.  “Then let’s be on our way, Christophe,” Victor laughed.  “The theatre is the place to be for long lost loves, it seems!  Maybe we’ll find another while we’re there, one of Georgi’s old flames, perhaps?”

Chris snorted and shoved Victor away.  “I forgot how irritating you are when you’re in a good mood,” he replied, but there wasn’t a trace of malice in his voice.

 

The Baranovskaya Theatre was the largest and brightest building of the entertainment district.  The whole neighborhood was built around it, like an old king’s castle.  The brilliant white stone glowed with the force of the lights upon it, and the columns lining the front of the building were thick as tree trunks.  It was regal, in a way, and Victor wanted to charge the doors at the thought of Yuuri being just inside.

Which he might have done, if not for the enormous crowd that was making it almost impossible to breathe.

“Must be a performance tonight,” Chris muttered, grabbing his hat before it was knocked off for the fourth time by a hasty passerby.

“I don’t care if the emperor is here, I’m not waiting one more minute,” Victor replied, attempting to push past a group of ladies.

He reached back and grabbed Chris’ hand, then pulled him along as he swam through the press of people.  Somehow, they emerged and found themselves in front of the ticket window, plastered with a huge colorful poster.

“Oh, I see,” Chris said, scanning the poster.  “It’s the debut of a new ballet dancer in his first leading role.  Phichit Chulanont is his name.  Must be popular.”

Victor leaned down to speak to the girl at the counter.  “Excuse me, can you show me how to get inside?” he asked, flashing his sweetest smile.  “I’m new in town and these crowds are enormous.”

“Oh, well,” the girl replied, blushing slightly.  Victor’s smile always worked.  “I can’t let you in before the show begins, and that’s not for another three hours.”

“Oh I’m not here for the show.  I just need to go in for a quick minute.”

“I’m afraid I can’t, sir…not until this evening.”

Victor resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  “All right then…let me have two tickets, then.”

“We’re sold out for tonight.  I don’t have any more openings until two days from now, in the morning.”

“No, I _need_ —”

“Thank you, madam,” Chris said, grabbing Victor’s arm and pulling him away.  Victor glared at him.

“I was in the middle of a conversation,” Victor growled.

“Listen, I know you’re itching to cause a scene, but just calm down for two seconds.  We don’t need to be inside, we’ll just wait for Yuuri to leave for the night.”

“But that’ll be hours!” Victor whined, turning to stare at the luminous theatre.

“I know, I know.  But we know where he is.  He’s safe in there.  We’ll just wait until he comes out, and there won’t be any problem.”

Victor chewed his lip, trying to see Chris’ side of things.  Yes, it made more sense.  Yes, it would be easier than searching each and every room in a huge theatre.  There was no reason to think that Yuuri was unsafe where he was, and the wait, although painful, would only be a few hours.  Victor had waited eight months to see Yuuri again.  A few hours more wouldn’t be that much to ask, would it?

“Fine,” Victor relented, though it pained him.  “But I’m not leaving this square until he comes out.”

“I expected as much,” Chris replied with a smile.

 

All night, Victor sat on the edge of the fountain of the square, watching the crowd dissipate as people shuffled inside the theatre for the show.  Chris brought them both something to eat, plus a large bottle of wine to share.  Victor’s heart raced the entire time.  He hoped that he wasn’t making the wrong choice.  Should he have found a way to break into the theatre after all?

_If Yuuri is busy with show stuff, me showing up suddenly might have thrown him all off,_ Victor thought as he took a swig of deep, rich red wine.

He thought back to Morita, rage creeping along the edges of his skin at the thought of what Yuuri had endured.  He should have killed the man.  Letting him live was the hardest thing Victor had ever done, but he couldn’t, he simply _couldn’t_ knowingly orphan a girl who was not only innocent, but ignorant of her father’s true nature.  There had been enough unfairness for a lifetime already.  It didn’t fix anything, but Victor had avoided adding one more victim to the heap.  Maybe somewhere, in some way, that counted for something.

When the stress got too much to bear, Chris told him to go take a walk; he would watch the theatre for now.  Victor agreed, and spent half an hour circling the building, looking for any place he could break in.  The thought of scaling walls made his bad leg throb with expectant pain, and he reluctantly ditched the idea.

He came back to Chris and they waited some more.  Chris, loosened by the wine, told Victor for the first time all about Masumi, the dancer he loved with his whole heart.  Victor knew a little about him, but not much.  This was the first time he’d heard of what Masumi looked like, the pas de deux he’d danced that had turned Chris’ head in the first place, and the endless tales of disappointment and broken promises.  Chris had told Masumi countless times that he would be home on this day, during this season, for no longer than a few months…all lies.  Not even engagement had solved it, until the day Masumi gave the ring back, the only piece of jewelry Chris ever wore.

It was a tale Victor knew to be common among pirates.  Sometimes it worked out, in the cases of Sara and Mila, and JJ and Isabella.  But for a pirate to love someone not of that life, it was like asking a selkie to shed her skin.

Victor still didn’t know, even after coming this far, what he and Yuuri were going to do.

The show ended; the throngs of people spilled back out onto the street, and Victor sat up straight.  Would Yuuri be among them, or would he come out later?  Would he even come out the front door, or was there a staff exit that he used?

Victor was struck with an idea.  “Chris,” he said, leaping to his feet.  “Stay here.  I’ll be right back.”

“Oh Victor, what the hell—” Chris replied, exasperated and exhausted, but Victor ran off before he could finish.

“Pardon me sir,” Victor said, flashing a smile as he ran up to the doorman.  “I left something of mine inside, let me pop in and grab it real quick?”

The man nodded, clearly tired and ready to go home, and waved Victor inside.

Victor ran into the foyer, still bustling with theatregoers, including a huge crowd that was forming in one corner.  He heard people calling out, “Phichit!  It’s really him!”

The distraction was welcome.  Victor sought out the doors where most people were emerging, and slipped past them into the half empty auditorium.  If his heart wasn’t racing from adrenaline, he would have stopped to marvel at the architecture of the inside of the hall.  Maybe, just maybe, if things worked out and calmed down, he could come back and Yuuri could tell him all about it.

Swiftly, as if he belonged there, he jumped onstage and behind the velvet curtain.  The stage was dark and quiet, and Victor could hear voices coming from way beyond the wings.  If he followed them, maybe he would find a dressing room.  Or as a very last resort, he could simply ask someone.

He found a hallway lined with dressing racks, trunks, and props.  It was quiet back here, as if all the actors and dancers were out in the foyer to meet their fans.  Victor walked down the corridor, peeking inside every open door as he passed.

Then he rounded the corner, and he heard it.

“…fixed for tomorrow night?”  It was a young girl’s voice, distressed but hopeful.

“Of course, of course.  Don’t worry, have I ever let you down before?”

Victor melted.  Yuuri’s voice…so soft and so unmistakable.  How long had it been?  It rang clear as bells in Victor’s ears, and a tear sprung to his eye.

“No,” said the girl, on the verge of tears herself.  “I’m just…my first show, and you made this just for me and I ripped it!”

“Everything will be fine, I promise.”  Victor could practically hear the soothing smile on Yuuri’s face.  “I don’t want you worrying about it any longer, okay?  You need to dance again tomorrow, just as well as you did tonight.”

“Okay,” she responded.  “Thank you, Yuuri.”  He saw a young ballerina, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers close to her chest, step into the hallway and walk away.  She never even noticed Victor standing there.

_It’s him.  It’s him.  He’s in that room._   Victor ran to the open door, light spilling out into the dim hallway.  With a stuttering heart, he stepped into the room.

It was a workroom, not unlike the one Yuuri had used in Minako’s shop, filled with ballet costumes in every corner.  It was a great deal messier than the one at the shop too.  Scraps of fabric littered the floor, and Victor was blinded by the sparkling of sequins adorning every piece of clothing.  And there, with his back to Victor, stood Yuuri, placing a torn dress on a form.

The creak of the floor was what caught his attention.  Yuuri turned, and saw him.  The recognition wasn’t instant, but Victor saw it filling up Yuuri’s eyes as Yuuri’s mouth slowly fell open.  His hands began to shake, and a sound like an anguished cry of elation escaped his lips.

“V-Victor—Victor?” Yuuri stammered.

Victor ran forward and threw his arms around Yuuri, squeezing tight enough to meld their bodies together.  Yuuri immediately began to cry, his legs giving out, and they both collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Victor,” Yuuri kept sobbing, over and over, his body shaking as the cries wracked him.

“Yuuri, my love, my dearest heart,” Victor replied, holding the back of Yuuri’s head as Yuuri shoved his face into Victor’s chest.  Tears flowed freely down Victor’s cheeks.  “I’m here, I’m here, дорогой.”

“You said you’d be right back,” Yuuri cried.  “You said…you told me you’d be right back….”

Victor remembered, with a pain to rival Guang-Hong’s sword through his chest, the last time he’d seen Yuuri before this.  He’d left him under the bed with just a gun to protect himself.  There had been only fear in Yuuri’s eyes then.

“I’m back now,” Victor assured him.  “I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry I left you alone for so long, but I’m back now.  I’m going to take you home.”

“Victor…” Yuuri cried again, and he clung to Victor like he was dying, sobs rattling every inch of his body.  A body that, Victor noticed now, was much smaller than before.  Victor didn’t want to think about why Yuuri had lost so much weight.  He didn’t want to think about the shock of white hair just above Yuuri’s temple, and he didn’t want to think about the raised scars he could feel along Yuuri’s back through his shirt.

Victor had seen survivors of shipwrecks coming out looking a lot worse than this.  Still, it was too much to bear just now.  This, all of this, was Victor’s fault, and there was nothing he could do now but give Yuuri endless promises, and give his whole life to fulfilling them.

He didn’t know how long they sat there, holding each other up.  Every sob that left Yuuri’s body, every tear that dampened the front of Victor’s shirt was a hammer to Victor’s heart.  He should have been here sooner.  There had to have been something he could have done differently.  When was his fatal mistake?  If he could find it, and go back to just that moment, and undo all of this….

Eventually, Yuuri’s tears slowed.  Victor cautiously pulled away just enough to take Yuuri’s face in his hands.  It was red, splotchy with tears, but the same two warm brown eyes stared back at him.  The same soft skin warmed Victor’s palms, and the same black bangs fell across his forehead.  Despite everything, it was still Yuuri.

“I’m here,” Victor said again, and he smiled.

Yuuri sniffled and laid his hands over Victor’s.  Yuuri was wearing gloves, made of a thick and harsh material.  They were cold and lifeless against Victor’s skin.

“I can’t believe it,” Yuuri whispered.  “I thought for sure…that I’d never see you again.”

“It takes more than that to get rid of me, love,” Victor replied.  He gently rubbed his thumbs over Yuuri’s cheeks.  They had lost all their plumpness, slimmed down not to an unhealthy amount, but enough to make Victor worry.  He wanted to ask Yuuri a million questions, but now wasn’t the time.  Now, all he wanted to do was sit here and hold Yuuri in his arms.

Yuuri swallowed.  “He told me so many times that you were dead,” he said miserably.  “Every day, he said it.  But I never believed him.”  Finally, the smallest of smiles appeared on Yuuri’s face.  “I knew he was wrong.”

Victor pushed down the rage he felt at the mere mention of Morita.  Instead, he leaned forward and closed his lips over Yuuri’s, blood surging at the familiar and long-lost taste of his lover’s mouth.  Yuuri returned the kiss, pushing his tongue into Victor’s mouth, in that confident way he always did.

“You’re so brave, Yuuri,” Victor said as they pulled away, both of them laughing with glee.  “My beautiful, handsome Yuuri, my sweet—” Victor couldn’t help himself; he kissed Yuuri again before he could finish his sentence.

 

Morita took another deep drink of whiskey to block out the pain as the surgeon stitched up his injuries.  Distantly he listened to the man prattle on about the chances of the reattachment going south, though Morita hardly cared in that moment.  All he could think about was how quickest to get back home to Satsuki and Yuuri.

He felt shame all over again remembering what he’d reluctantly confessed.  He wasn’t proud of the times he’d raised a hand to Yuuri, something he’d never done in his whole life, something he’d never dream of doing to his own daughter.  And yet, despite the frustration that Yuuri cultivated in him, Morita had never stopped loving him.

It made no sense, why Yuuri couldn’t understand.  Things would be better if only Yuuri would give him a chance.  Morita could give him everything he wanted, everything he’d confessed himself that _he wanted_.  Pirates almost never lived past the age of thirty, and Victor—a real, actual murderer, thief, and liar—was never, ever going to give Yuuri anything but pain.  Morita knew that Yuuri knew it.  He could see it in his eyes every time Victor came up in conversation.  Something that happened less and less these days.  Morita had seen to it.

“There you are,” said the surgeon, snipping the sutures and beginning to wrap gauze around Morita’s hand.  “Maybe you should find another game if your card buddies are gonna do this to you again.”

Morita grit his teeth, and an idea formed in his head.  “It was Victor Nikiforov’s crew that did this to me.  The King of fucking Gold himself.”

The doctor’s amusement fell away and his face paled.  “What?  Really?”

Morita nodded.  “He’s blackmailing me, you know,” he lied, the words coming to him more easily than he expected.  “I’m not proud of it.  But he’s threatening my family so what else can I do?”

“Shit…” the doctor breathed.

Morita pushed himself to his feet.  “I need to get home and make sure they’re safe.”

“You really should rest—”

“I don’t have time.  I know where he’s headed and I’ve got to notify the authorities as quickly as I can.  For my daughter’s sake.”

He wasn’t crazy enough to confront Victor on his own—he’d gotten off easy, and he knew it—but Morita could play a coward’s game when it suited him.  Victor might be able to get away with walking around in derelict towns, but a big city was a different story.  Once the police were on the lookout for him there, the problem would most likely sort itself out.

Morita had waited too long and been too overly patient with Yuuri to let Victor take him away now.  Things were already changing between them, Morita could tell.  Yuuri’s smiles were more genuine, and he didn’t even lean away anymore when Morita kissed him.  Plus, he and Satsuki adored each other.  Yuuri wouldn’t—couldn’t—leave them now.

No, he’d make sure of it.

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yuuri said softly through his smile, even as he couldn’t stop himself from kissing Victor’s face over and over.  Everything was the same:  his eyes, his sunburned nose, his shining silver hair.  The memories of Victor’s body and presence and smell came flooding back to him, a deep drink of sweet cool water.  Victor was even wearing the same pink jacket as the first time they’d ever met; it was slightly faded, the fabric softer, and it told him that everything was real.  Victor was really here.  He was alive.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” Victor purred into Yuuri’s ear, his voice soft around the edges like slight intoxication.

“You’re a wanted criminal, aren’t you?” Yuuri giggled.  He touched Victor’s cheek with one hand, smoothing over his eyebrows with his thumb.  “You have such…such a pretty, recognizable face.”

Victor laughed, his face lighting up, and Yuuri’s heart melted like it was the first time.  He’d known, somehow, deep in his bones, that tonight was going to be a good night.  It wasn’t just his excitement for Phichit in his first principal role.  It wasn’t just his own debut as lead costume designer on tonight’s show.  Something else had been in the air.

“Then I guess we’d best be on our way,” said Victor.

“I can’t leave now,” Yuuri replied.  “There’s two more shows after tonight.”

Victor’s face fell into that pout that Yuuri had missed so much.  He’d missed everything so badly.  “The greatest torturer of my heart,” he whined.

“Stop that,” Yuuri laughed.

“Very well,” Victor sighed.  “I will make this final sacrifice, but only for you.”  He raised one of Yuuri’s gloved hands to his lips.  He kissed the back of it, only to pull away and stare with some trepidation at the harsh black fabric.

He lifted his eyes to Yuuri’s, and when Yuuri said nothing, Victor gently pulled the glove from Yuuri’s hand.  Yuuri could see tension spilling out of Victor when his flesh was revealed, and Victor kissed his warm, bare skin before pressing Yuuri’s hand against his own face.

“…I was worried,” he whispered softly.  “That he’d…hurt you again.”

Yuuri felt cold.  Morita’s threat hung heavy over his head always, from the way he kept his sharpened letter opener on his desk where Yuuri could see it, to how he would lazily push the firewood about with the fire poker until it began to glow red.  The phantom pain of the first time he’d done it flared up in Yuuri’s joints.  He remembered how Morita had thrown him to the floor and driven his heel into the bones of Yuuri’s fingers with inhuman force.  Yuuri had done anything—too much, perhaps—to avoid feeling that pain again.

But now that Victor knew, Yuuri wished he had done more.

For the first time, Yuuri averted his gaze, too ashamed to look at Victor.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling his hand back.

“What?  What for?”

_For being weak.  For not standing up to him, like you would have wanted me to.  For not being like you.  For being scared._

“For worrying you,” was what he ended up saying.  “I’m fine.  I only wear these gloves to prevent myself from sticking myself with needles.”  Yuuri forced a smile.  “I do a lot more sewing these days.”

Victor looked as though he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it.  Instead, he seemed to remember that they were both still sitting on the floor, and he got to his feet.  Pulling Yuuri up, he said, “I don’t want you to go back to his house.  Until the shows are done, will you promise to stay with me and Chris?”

Despite everything, Yuuri’s heart lifted.  “Christophe’s here?  Otabek and Yuri too?”

Victor chuckled lightly.  “The boys aren’t here, but they’ll be happy to see you.  It’s just me and Chris.  We have to keep a low profile in this town.”

Yuuri smiled.  “All right.  I’m…I’m excited to see them again.”

 

Under the guise of being especially exhausted, Yuuri left the theatre early that night while Victor snuck out a back door.  Upon seeing them, Christophe leapt up and bodily lifted Yuuri in a hug.

“You’re one hard man to find, you know that?” Chris laughed as they embraced tightly.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Yuuri replied, giggling giddily.

Chris set him down and grinned.  “When Victor wants something, he gets it.”

Yuuri blushed deeply in a way that made Victor want to start kissing him and never stop.

“Let’s get ourselves a place to stay,” Victor announced, slinging his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.  “We’ll be in town a few more days while the show is going on.”

“In that case, Yuuri,” Chris said, “I hope you can get me and Victor some tickets.  It’ll be nice to experience some actual culture after a few months at sea with this dumbass.”  He punched Victor in the shoulder as they headed down the street.

Victor flashed Chris a cheeky smile.  “Hey Yuuri,” he said.  “Are there any dancers in this production by the name of Masumi?”

Chris’s smile fell away, replaced by a shocked blush.

“Yeah,” Yuuri answered slowly, catching on quickly to Chris’ change in demeanor.  “He’s playing the part of Tybalt.”

Victor leaned in close and whispered loudly in Yuuri’s ear, “That’s Chris’ fiancé.”

Yuuri gasped.  “What!?  Really?”

“Victor…” Chris growled as Victor burst out laughing.

“Is he really?” Yuuri repeated.  “But he’s so serious all the time!”

Chris softened a bit and chuckled.  “Nah, he’s really just a big idiot.  You ever heard him laugh?  He snorts like a donkey.”

 

They found an inn with vacancy a few blocks from the theatre.  Victor paid for two rooms—the look Chris gave Yuuri at the time sent a blush all the way up to his ears—and they indulged in a large dinner.  Yuuri told them both all about the production, the dancers he worked with, and the costumes he’d made.  As it turned out, Phichit was his closest friend at the theatre, the first one to open up to him when he first arrived looking for work.

Phichit also had encouraged Yuuri to learn some ballet as well, even bringing him to meet his personal instructor, Celestino.  Yuuri spent most of the lessons just watching Phichit dance, but he’d relented and learned a few basic techniques evetually.  Lilia was the owner of the theatre, and Yuuri had only met her a few times.  She was stoic, harsh, difficult to read, but she gave praise when it was due.  Yuuri told them, with a giggle, how she never failed to shed a tear at the end of each and every show.

Victor was happy that Yuuri had companions.  There came the inevitable guilt that he was taking Yuuri away from them, but Yuuri was never supposed to be here to begin with.  Or was he?  The brightness that filled Yuuri’s eyes as he spoke about the freedom he had now to design the ballet costumes was genuine and warm.  Was a career in the city not what Yuuri had wanted all this time?  Despite it all, was there a glimmer of real happiness for him here?

Victor smiled as Yuuri talked and tried to push the thoughts away.  He didn’t want to think about the future tonight.  He wanted to think about now, about finally having Yuuri with him again, about how he couldn’t be any happier in this moment.

Dinner ended and Chris declared he was going to stay and have a few more drinks at the bar.  The wink he gave Victor as he got up spoke volumes.  Victor took Yuuri’s hand and led him upstairs.

Their room was small but nice.  A window opened up to the main street, lights and snippets of conversation drifting in.  It wasn’t close enough to the harbor to hear the sea, but it would do for the few nights that they needed it.

“Are you tired?” Victor asked, removing his coat and slinging it over a chair.  Yuuri sat down on the bed, setting his bag—a new bag, Victor noticed—on the floor.

“A little,” Yuuri confessed.  “But…I want to stay awake a little longer, if that’s okay.”  He flashed Victor a shy smile, and Victor all but leapt on the bed, wrapping his arms around a laughing Yuuri and showering his face with kisses.

A violent heat overtook Victor’s body then, and he laid Yuuri underneath him, giving him deeper kisses that sent his blood pulsing.  How many nights had he laid alone, desperately holding on to the memory of that night in the lighthouse shack?  He could still picture it, the soft curves of Yuuri’s body, the sweet shyness coupled with eager desire in his eyes.  The beautiful sounds he’d made, lovelier than any song.  The way his whole essence dove beneath Victor’s skin, filling him up to even the darkest corners, killing and reviving him all at once.

Yuuri returned the kisses with equal wanting, reaching back and running his fingers through Victor’s hair.  He pulled, ever so slightly, and Victor’s heart jumped.  He could feel Yuuri rubbing his thigh against Victor’s hip, and he could stand it no longer.

He pulled away, grabbing frantically at the buttons of Yuuri’s shirt, fingers shaking as he strove not to rip it all in one go.  Yuuri had been gone for so long, a hollow void growing steadily in Victor’s heart, and now that he was here again, the void screamed as loud as it ever had.

Yuuri’s chest, once revealed, was the same as Victor remembered, only smaller.  Tiny, almost unnoticeable scars from the shipwreck dotted across his skin.  Victor wanted to kiss them all until not a trace of these past eight months remained.

He felt Yuuri’s hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling it untucked and pushing it up and over Victor’s head.  There was no trace of the small, shaking hands that had touched him so many nights ago.  Yuuri moved now with fewer questions, only a quiet sureness that made Victor’s heart dance.

Yuuri stopped, however, at the sight of Victor’s bare chest.  He laid his warm hands over the knotted, ugly scar where Guang-Hong’s sword had run him through.  Yuuri chewed lightly on his bottom lip, took a breath, and let it out softly.

“…What happened?” he asked, gentle and sad.

Victor paused.  He thought of lying, of saying that it was from before, that Yuuri shouldn’t worry about it.  But Yuuri always knew when he was lying, and it always angered him.  “It’s…” Victor forced out awkwardly, “it’s from Hasetsu.  I’m fine now.”

Yuuri sat up, guilt creasing in his every feature.  “I never asked you about it.”  He paused and stared down at his lap.  “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?  For what?”

“I had no idea what had happened to you since Chris came back that night and told me they’d taken you.”  Yuuri’s face filled up with red, the color of deep shame.  “I never asked…never asked what happened to you.”

“I’m fine, love.”  Victor took Yuuri’s hand and kissed it.  “Look at me.”  He smiled.

Yuuri forced a smile in return, but it quickly faded.  “…How bad is it?  Back home.”

Victor’s brow furrowed.  “What do you mean?  Hasetsu is fine.”

Yuuri was silent a moment, slowly paling.  Then, finally:  “Oh.”

“Oh?” Victor repeated.

“…He told me it burned up.”

_Oh_ , Victor thought again.  “He lied to you,” Victor said, clutching Yuuri’s hand tighter.  “Neither JJ nor Guang-Hong will ever be back.  I left half of my crew behind when I came looking for you.  Your hometown is perfectly fine.”

There was another, longer pause.  “And my family?” Yuuri whispered, barely audible.

“Also fine.  I brought Vicchan with me, you know.  Mari told me to.”

Yuuri’s head whipped up, his eyes filling rapidly with tears.  “Vicchan…Vicchan’s here?”

“On my ship, yes.”  Victor nodded.  “Makkachin’s been taking good care of him.”

Yuuri smiled and hastily wiped his eyes.  “I’m glad.  I’ve missed him.”

Victor placed his hand on Yuuri’s cheek and kissed him gently on the forehead.  “Don’t worry about any of that right now, all right?  I’m going to bring you home, and everything will be just as it was.”

Yuuri took Victor’s face in his hands and kissed his mouth, soft warmth filling up the edges of Victor’s body.  Yuuri pulled away, slowly, then wrapped his arms around Victor and buried his face in Victor’s chest.

“…I’ve been selfish,” he muttered softly.  “I’ve asked so many things of you and given nothing back.”

“Yuuri,” Victor chuckled, pressing a kiss into the top of his head.  “You worry too much.”

“I just want…” Yuuri said, looking up.  “Can I just ask for one last thing?”

“Anything, my love.  It will be yours.”

He paused a moment, considering his question carefully before giving it life.  “Can I stay with you?”  The look on his face was so hopeful and sincere, as if there was even the slightest possibility that Victor could say no.

Victor embraced him tightly, breathing him in, letting his body heat soak into him, holding him until the feeling of him was etched into the deepest memories of his mind.  Since the day he’d first seen Yuuri, he’d loved him, and every day since they met, he’d loved him more and more.  Everything made sense now that he was here.  Things like what Victor wanted, what Victor deserved, what Victor could be:  Yuuri had answered all these questions.

“Yes,” Victor said softly, with all the strength of his exhausted heart.  “For as long as you will have me.”

 

Chris sipped blearily at his fourth order of whiskey, wondering if it was safe to go upstairs yet or if Victor and Yuuri were making themselves heard through the whole upper floor.  He laughed a little to himself wondering what the two of them could possibly be like in bed together.  It had taken him a while to really understand it, but they went together well despite being nothing alike.

The door to the tavern opened and in strode a group of three heavily armed men.  Chris’s attention snapped to them through the haze of his tipsiness, and he watched them out of the corner of his eye as they spread out in the bar.  The one that appeared to be the captain walked up to the bartender.  Christophe glanced at him, a natural reaction to not elicit any curiosity.  It worked; the armored man did not react to him whatsoever.

“Where’s the owner?” he asked without preamble.

“That’d be me,” replied the bartender, unfazed.

The man held out a piece of paper.  “Word just came in.  You see this man, you report it immediately.”

Chris caught a glimpse of Victor’s name and likeness on the paper as it was handed over.  The bartender let out a low whistle as he perused the words.

“That’s one hell of a reward,” he said.

“Reward?” Chris asked, slurring his words more than he felt as he feigned interest.  “For what?”

“Pirate,” said the bartender, turning the paper for Chris to see.  “Victor Nikiforov, too.”

Chris nodded and turned away, but inside he was fuming.  Victor should have killed Morita.  He knew why Victor hadn’t wanted to do it, but it had been stupid, for exactly this reason.  Otabek had even cut more fingers off the man’s hand after Victor left the room, but they should never have let him live.

Chris watched the bartender hang Victor’s wanted poster up on the wall behind the bar as Chris thought of how quickly he could convince Victor and Yuuri to leave.  The reward for Victor’s capture was the highest Chris had ever seen it, and it was even doubled if he could be apprehended alive.  Their only hope was that the authorities would be inundated with enough fake sightings for a while to let them slip out unnoticed, but time was already running out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I had to do it to 'em.
> 
> Sometimes it hits me just how long I've been working on this fic, because this is the second time I've had a birthday while updating! This fic has aged me two years lmao I'm 30 now and I promise we'll hit the end before I hit 31. Thanks to all of you for sticking around this whole time; you guys are the best <3
> 
> Come visit me at my my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again friends!! Extra long chapter for you all this time <3 Hope you enjoy!!

_“And my friends are all drunk outside but I don’t care_  
_At this party to say goodbye we hide upstairs_  
_On a bed that’s just three feet wide_  
_In the minutes before daylight_  
_We don’t have to act like we’re not scared”_

_\- “Party to Say Goodbye”_

 

Being with Yuuri was a bliss that took root deep inside Victor’s body.  It flooded through his nerves like a drug, or like relief from debilitating pain.  It was a feeling Victor knew well:  the thrill of running down a ship, a deeply expensive liquor, or the power he wielded simply through his money.  Never had another person given him that emotion before.  Now that Yuuri was here—finally, truly _here_ with Victor—what use did he have for piracy?

It wasn’t the thought of giving up his fleet that gave him pause.  It was the clear uncertainty of after.  How could he provide for Yuuri if he gave away the only thing he’d ever built?  Could Victor live a life free of everything he’d been up to now?  He couldn’t bring Yuuri into that life.  It had proved too dangerous too many times over, and he’d almost lost Yuuri forever.

But when he slid his body against Yuuri’s, heard the sweet little moans that fell from his lips, watched the eyes that looked at him with such love and trust, no price seemed too high.

Victor laid with his bare chest pressed close up against Yuuri’s.  He’d torn off the buttoned shirt with enough force to sending one button flying across the room.  Yuuri had laughed at the mortification in Victor’s eyes, then pulled him close for a kiss and whispered, “It’s okay.  I wouldn’t mind, but I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

The thought of literally tearing Yuuri’s clothes off him made Victor hard in an instant.  To think that a dressmaker would even allow something like that…or maybe that was exactly why it excited Yuuri.  Victor would find out one day.  For now, he settled for undressing Yuuri as carefully as possible.

Yuuri’s arms were wrapped around Victor’s torso, hands curled lightly against his skin.  His muscles were tensing and relaxing like a heartbeat as Victor sucked his neck with abandon.  Victor remembered the exact spot that was Yuuri’s favorite, the spot that made Yuuri moan through nervously closed lips, that made him wiggle his hips restlessly until a hardness pressed insistently against Victor’s thigh.

Those lonely, hopeless eight months he’d spent searching for Yuuri had been populated by countless nights that Victor had filled with all the illicit fantasies he could conjure.  Anything to dull the hurt.  Anything to make him feel, if only for a moment, that Yuuri was there with him.  He imagined what it would be like to fuck Yuuri intimately, buried deep inside him, deep enough that they shared the same body.  He imagined the sight of Yuuri riding him, writhing and taking his own pleasure as he pleased, using Victor’s body however he wanted.

The time wasn’t right for any of that now.  They would need time, and safety, and the untouchable space of Victor’s cabin.  For now, Victor just wanted to be close to him, as close as he could.  He didn’t want to feel the emptiness of separation one second longer.

Victor pulled away from Yuuri’s neck, and to his surprise, Yuuri grabbed the back of his head and yanked him down for a kiss.  It was deep, almost rough, and Victor groaned right into Yuuri’s mouth.  Yuuri nibbled Victor’s bottom lip, ran his tongue over the small bite marks, barely breathing as he did so.  There was a kind of desperation in it too.  Victor wasn’t sure, but it was almost like Yuuri was trying to force the taste of Victor back into his senses, to erase something else.

 _Never again_ , Victor thought.  _He’ll never touch you again, I promise._

Victor dug his hand into Yuuri’s pants and pulled them away just enough to expose Yuuri’s growing erection.  Yuuri lifted his hips and rutted against Victor with stuttering thrusts, searching for friction and heat.  Victor laughed softly, kissed him with a viciously wanting tongue, and shuffled out of his own pants until their cocks laid heavy against each other.

Yuuri thrust against him again, and Victor took them both in one hand, letting Yuuri set the pace and take whatever he needed.  Yuuri whined wordlessly into Victor’s lips, his hands clawing and grabbing at Victor’s scarred back.  It was quick, sloppy, a mere easing of pressure.  They’d both been apart too long, wound too tightly with loneliness.  Victor didn’t even mind that it was over so soon, spilling hot over Yuuri’s heaving stomach.

They stayed there for a bit, letting the adrenaline die down and letting the events of the night come into focus.  It was a struggle to roll off of Yuuri, as if by turning his back Yuuri might disappear.  Victor cleaned them both up and tucked Yuuri in under the blankets before crawling in next to him.  Yuuri turned to him and hugged him like he’d never let go, like he’d be content to die here just like this.

Victor pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s head.  “After your shows are done we’ll head straight home,” Victor told him.  “Mila has the ship a few miles down the coastline.”

Yuuri raised his eyes and smiled, looking at Victor with the sweetest face he’d ever seen.  “I’ve never been on your ship before,” he said.  “Is it nice?”

“The nicest,” Victor said with a rush of pride.  “My one true love after you, my darling.”

Yuuri nuzzled into him, resting his head on Victor’s strong chest.  He closed his eyes and said, “Describe her to me.”

Victor told Yuuri all about _Fiery Maria_ , from how he’d gotten her, how he’d improved her, the harpy figurehead, the majestic billow of her sails.  He described every last part of the ship, every room, every inch of rope and slat of wood.  He only stopped when he heard Yuuri’s breath settle into a rhythm, his body sagging with the weight of sleep.

 

In his dreams, Victor was swimming in a warm lagoon.  Suddenly, a rush of ice water overtook him, and the shock of it forced him awake.  Just in time to see Yuuri shifting away from him on his way out of bed, taking his body heat with him.

Victor reached out and grabbed Yuuri’s shoulder, spinning him back around to face him.  “Where are you going?” he slurred sleepily.

Yuuri laughed.  His hair was tousled and had never been more gorgeous.  “I have to go to work.”

“Be late.”

“I have repairs to do, you greedy pirate.”  Yuuri leaned in and gave him a long, deep kiss.  Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri and hoisted him on top of him, warm, naked bodies intermingling their heat.

“I could kidnap you, you know,” Victor teased, reaching down to knead at one of Yuuri’s ass cheeks.  “That poor beautiful tailor, stolen away by the vicious pirate king.”

Victor almost laughed aloud to feel Yuuri’s cock twitch against his leg.  “You could,” Yuuri replied.  “And you still can.  After tonight’s show.”

“I want to see the show.  What time does it start?  I will be there.”

“Six o’clock.  As far as I know it’s sold out, but…I know that won’t stop you.”

There was a knock at the door.  “Victor?” came Chris’s voice.  “It’s me.”

“Come in,” Victor called.  Yuuri squeaked and burrowed under the covers.

“Wait, no!” Yuuri said, hiding under the blankets.  “I’m not wearing anything!”

It was too late; Chris opened the door and walked in, face worn with lines of exhaustion.

Victor, who had no such misgivings about his state of undress, sat up and frowned at him.  “How much did you drink last night?” he asked.

“We have a problem.”  Chris tossed the wanted poster onto Victor’s lap as he dragged a chair over.  He sat down with a heavy sigh.  “We have to leave now.”

Yuuri peeked out just enough to see the paper in Victor’s hands.  “What’s this?” he asked.

Chris grinned at them knowingly.  “Good morning to you both, by the way.”

Yuuri disappeared again, embarrassment radiating from his whole body.  Victor laughed.

“Chris, can you wait outside for just a moment?”

Later, when Victor and Yuuri had both dressed, the three of them reconvened over the poster.  Victor whistled to see the number of the reward.

“I’ve never been so pricey before,” he declared.  “But we can’t leave yet.  I promised Yuuri.”

“Victor…” Yuuri said softly, “you know we can’t stay now.  Not with this out there.  People will be looking for you, and they actually know who you are in this town.  I’ve heard people talk about you.”

“All good things, I hope.”

Yuuri fought to keep the smile from his face as best he could.  “I’m serious.  There’s no point being so reckless.  We have to get out now.”

“But what about your job?”

“I’ll come up with some reason.  Or maybe I won’t.”  Yuuri reached over and grabbed Victor’s hand.  “I’ve waited for you for so long already…I don’t care what I have to leave behind now that you’re here.”

Victor looked into Yuuri’s beautiful eyes, full of conviction, and sighed softly.  “You should at least go sort out your affairs at the theatre,” he said.  “Just in case one day we can come back.  No sense in burning any bridges now.”

Yuuri smiled a tiny smile.  “All right,” he said.  “I’ll be ready by the end of the day.”

Turning to Chris, Victor asked, “How soon can we get a ride out of here?”

“Not sure,” said Chris.  “Security’s got to be tighter now, so I need to get a feel for how things are out there.  Worst case we can probably sneak out of town by boat.”

“All right.  Do me a favor and walk Yuuri to work, okay?  Just to be safe.”

“Okay, but you can’t stay here,” Chris replied.  “Your face is plastered all over the walls downstairs.”

“I think I’ll go pay Yakov a visit,” Victor said with a grin.  “Maybe there’s enough of a heart left in his withered husk to harbor me at his place for a few hours.”

Yuuri giggled softly.  “Miss Lilia’s husband is named Yakov too.”

Victor and Chris’s eyes went wide.  “The old captain got married!?” Chris exclaimed.  “You’re kidding!”

Yuuri laughed.  “If it’s the same person I’m thinking of, anyway.  I know where he lives.  I can tell you where.”

 

Though it pained him to separate from Yuuri for even another minute, Victor let Chris take Yuuri over to the theatre while Victor snuck out the back window of the inn.  He wasn’t as good as Chris or Sara at blending in, but he knew how to make himself scarce well enough.  Yakov’s house was only a few blocks over, on the other side of the entertainment district, and looked easy enough to reach by crossing over on rooftop.  Victor worked his way over to the street Yuuri had mentioned, wincing as the rough angles sent pain shooting all throughout his bad leg.

Yakov seemed to have done well for himself.  The house was almost large enough to be a mansion, covered with the same shining white plaster that adorned the theatre.  Victor wasted no time; he strode up to the door and knocked.  Only afterwards did he consider that someone who was _not_ the old captain might answer.

Luckily, it didn’t come to that, and the door swung open to reveal the same grizzled old face that Victor remembered.  Yakov squinted at him, realization and questions blooming in his head, and Victor just stood there, grinning wide.

“Captain Yakov,” Victor greeted him, arms thrown open.  “My favorite captain.”

Yakov sighed and Victor swore he saw the man age ten years before his eyes.  “I thought I was finally free of you.”

Victor laughed and stepped forward to grip the man in a tight embrace.  Begrudgingly, Yakov returned it.  He seemed shorter.  Or was Victor taller?  It was hard to tell.

When they pulled apart, Yakov sighed again, but there was a resigned amusement in his eyes.  “There’s only two reasons I can think of why you’re here.  You either need money, or you’ve finally come to your senses and decided to get out of piracy for good.”

“Very close,” Victor replied.  “I need a place to hide out until tonight.”

Yakov cursed under his breath.  “Well, you’ve interrupted my breakfast, so you may as well come eat with me.”

They moved into Yakov’s dining room, where Victor helped himself to some coffee and a pastry.  For a while, they made small talk:  Yakov asked how the crew and the ship were, Victor told him of Guang-Hong’s plot and the fight for Hasetsu.  And of course, he couldn’t leave out Yuuri, beautiful, perfect Yuuri, who he was finally going to take home after all this time.

“You always were too stupid and too lucky,” Yakov grumbled, even though pride gleamed beneath his scowl.  “And this new bed-warmer of yours—”

“He’s not a bed-warmer, I love him,” Victor insisted.

“—you say he’s here in this city?”

“Yes, working with your wife at the theatre.  Congratulations, by the way.  I’m only a little hurt I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

Yakov grumbled something indistinct.  “I was only able to get married because I quit before I got killed.  You don’t seem like you’re thinking of settling down.”

Victor took another pastry and spread a thick lather of jam on it.  “I am, though,” he said, more to his food than Yakov.  “I’ve had some close calls this year.  It might be time.”

“The call of the sea is strong.  I still hear it, even after all this time.”  Yakov’s voice had gone low and serious.  Victor flicked his eyes up at him, only to look away again.  He hated that tone.  It was too much like a lecture, and never accompanied anything that Victor wanted to hear.

“I’ll admit that it’s been tough with Lilia,” Yakov continued.  “It’s like a curse.  Being pulled in two directions.  But I can cope, because I’m never far from the sea, and because I’ll always love Lilia more.”

Victor glanced at him.  “I might not… _have_ to completely stop sailing.”

Yakov sat back and rolled his eyes.

“Yuuri said he’d like to travel,” Victor continued.  “I can take him places.  He’d be safe with me.”

“Victor,” Yakov said, with that old, stern voice that Victor knew all too well.  “You might think it’s that easy, but how long until you fall back into old habits?  Piracy is a drug.  You’re addicted, just like I was addicted.  You’re smart enough to provide a better life for him if you really love him.”  Yakov stood, effectively silencing any protest building in Victor’s mind.

“You can stay here for today if you need to,” Yakov told him.  “But you’d better be out of here before my wife gets home tonight.”

 

Yuuri thought that Victor was being a bit too overcautious by having Christophe walk him to work, but he didn’t mind the extra company.  He’d missed Christophe, and Yuri and Otabek too.  He’d thought of the crew often, wondering if Otabek had ever gotten better at threading a needle, or if Yuri was staying out of trouble.

“There are definitely worse places you could have washed up,” Chris remarked, winking at ladies and gentlemen alike as they walked through the crowded streets of the entertainment district.

Yuuri smiled.  “It hasn’t been all bad.”

“You seem to fit right in here, too.  Besides the obvious, do you like it here?”

Yuuri thought about it for a good long moment.  “It’s not home,” he said eventually, his voice soft.  “I can’t really smell or hear the ocean unless I go down to the docks.  It’s loud, and the lights never go out, not even late at night.  But…I have friends at the theatre.  Nice people who don’t ask me too many questions.  They’re the only parts I’ll miss when I go.”

Chris nodded knowingly.  “That makes sense.  You’re a small town man at heart, aren’t you?”  He slung his arm over Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri laughed.

“I guess,” he said.

They approached the theatre, and an idea bloomed in Yuuri’s head.  With a small grin, he turned to Chris and said, “So, um…I know you’re going to be busy today but…if you get hungry around noon or so, there’s a bakery down the street from here.”

Chris blinked.  “Yuuri, are you asking me out?”

“What?  No!”

Chris leaned in close, a cheeky smile on his lips.  “I’m very flattered.  If you want, I can join you and Victor sometime…show you a few tricks I’ve learned.”

“Stop it!” Yuuri exclaimed, red to his ears.  “What I’m _trying_ to say is that that’s where Masumi goes every day for lunch, you degenerate.”

Chris’s entire demeanor changed, the coy smile falling away and replaced with a blush to rival a virgin’s.  “O-oh…” he choked out.

“I won’t spoil the surprise for him.  But if you decide that you want to talk to him, that’s where you’ll find him.”

“…Got it.”  Chris cleared his throat and ran a hand over his face.  “Thank you.”

Yuuri smiled at him, then leaned forward and gave him a tight hug.

 

“You’re in such a good mood today, Yuuri,” Phichit said with his usual knowing grin.  Yuuri looked over his shoulder to glare at him, but there was no real malice in his eyes.

“I had a nice night last night,” Yuuri replied, turning back to the costume he was fixing up.  Phichit sometimes came into the workroom to stretch and talk to Yuuri first thing in the morning.  He sat on the floor with a wide smile as he stretched his thighs.

“Yeah?  You gonna tell me about it or what?”

Yuuri smiled to himself, a bittersweet emotion filling his chest.  He’d be sad to leave Phichit.  He’d been Yuuri’s friend since the day he arrived, just coming up and talking to him like they’d known each other forever.  He didn’t ask Yuuri questions about where he’d come from, and anything that he did know had been offered up freely by Yuuri himself.  He was also one of the only ones who knew about Morita, in all the ugly detail.  But Yuuri had never told anyone, not even Phichit, about Victor.

Right now, all he wanted to do was gush endlessly to his friend about the man he loved, the man who protected him and believed in him and saved him over and over.  He wanted to tell Phichit all about Victor’s bravery, his beautiful talents, his laugh and his smile and his eyes.  He might never stop talking about him if he stopped.

“Well,” Yuuri said, “you might not like it if I tell you.”

“I doubt that very much.”

“…I’m leaving town tonight.”  Yuuri paused and held his breath, waiting for Phichit’s response.  For a moment, there was complete silence.

“How come?” Phichit asked, disappointment laced through every word.

“Well…I’m going back home.”

“Really?”  Phichit sounded relieved, somehow.  “You don’t have to work for Morita anymore?”

“Not quite.  He doesn’t know, and I’m keeping it that way.”

“I see…well, I can’t say that I won’t miss you, but I’m glad you’re getting away from him.”

Yuuri turned back around and saw Phichit grinning widely at him.  Phichit wasn’t a violent person by any means—in fact, he was one of the sweetest, gentlest souls Yuuri had ever known.  But there was always a rare fire in his eyes whenever Yuuri talked to him about Morita.  In those moments, he could have believed that Phichit would have gone to Morita’s house to personally punch him in the face.

“I’m sorry it’s so sudden,” Yuuri said quietly.  “But…I have a way out and I can’t miss it.”

“I understand.”  Phichit nodded, leaning forward and stretching his long, lithe body across the floor.  “Have you told Miss Lilia yet?”

Yuuri cringed at the thought of it.  “I don’t know if I have the nerve.”

“I’ll go with you to tell her.  I know if you ever do come back, she’ll give you your job again in a heartbeat.  Probably even write you a letter of recommendation if you wanna go work somewhere else.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely!  Yuuri, you should have seen the costume designer we had before you.  I’m surprised my clothes didn’t fall off every performance night.  It was _bad_.”

Yuuri laughed.  When Phichit spoke again, his tone was serious.  “Really though…I’ll miss you a lot.  You’d better write to me.”

“I will.  I promise I will.”

 

Victor spent most of the day lounging around Yakov’s house, rifling through his books and all his things, and narrowly avoiding being thrown out.  Chris was supposed to go get Yuuri first as soon as he’d secured a safe way for them to leave, then fetch Victor from Yakov’s house so they could all leave together.  Victor knew that it wasn’t fair to leave it all to Christophe, but there was nothing Yuuri could do about it, and Victor couldn’t show his face in the city unless he wanted to go through the very lengthy, annoying process of a jailbreak.

He tried to be patient, but he was crawling the walls with the desire to just _leave_ already.

It was about nine in the evening when a knock came at the door, and Yakov led Christophe inside.

“Good to see you, Captain,” Chris said with a grin, embracing the old man tightly.

“Chris!” Victor exclaimed, leaping up from the couch where he’d been reclining.  “I’ve been bored out of mind all day.”

“And he’s been making me lose mine,” Yakov grumbled.  “Victor, you’re worse than a child when you’re cooped up.  Hurry up and get him out of here before I kill us both, Christophe.”

Chris laughed and took a seat in a nearby armchair.  “I’ve come to do just that.”

“Where’s Yuuri?” Victor said, peering around the room as if he could have slipped his notice.

“He’s still at the theatre,” Chris told him.  “Don’t worry, everything’s fine.  I actually wanted to come talk to you in private about something first.”

Victor frowned and sank back down onto the couch.  Chris turned pink and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s…about Masumi,” he admitted softly.

Victor’s eyes widened.  “Did you see him?”

“Yeah.”  Chris smiled.  “He was…emotional about seeing me.  We both were, I guess.  But we had a long talk.  About a lot of things.  And what I came to ask you was…if you’d allow me, I’d like to stay here.  In this town.  …With him.”

Victor was silent for a while, letting the idea settle in his mind.  He couldn’t imagine sailing without Christophe, couldn’t imagine the _Fiery Maria_ without her steadfast first mate.  But then again, Victor had had a whole day to consider the words Yakov gave him that morning.  A pirate’s lifespan was short.  If Chris wanted to get out now and be with the man he loved, who was Victor to deny him that?  It was the exact same thing Victor himself was trying to do.

His answer was clear.  “Of course, Chris,” he said.

A flurry of emotions passed over Chris’s face.  “Really?” he asked.  “I…I know it’s sudden, and I don’t really have any plans, but….”

“Christophe,” Victor told him, holding up a hand.  “You’ve served with me for ten years.  There’s nothing we haven’t done together, and God knows you’ve made more sacrifices for me than I’ve any right to ask.  I’d be dead without you, and I certainly would never have found Yuuri.  Nothing would make me happier than to know that you are with your fiancé again.”

Chris smiled, and Victor could see the stress melting from his friend’s body.  Had he really anticipated Victor might say no?

“The only condition,” Victor continued, “is that you absolutely must invite me to your wedding.  That’s the last request I’ll ever make of you.”

“Of course,” Chris laughed.  “Thank you, Victor.  I mean that, as a friend and as your first mate.  It’s been an honor.”

“Well damn, it’s not as if either of us is dying.  This isn’t the last we’ll see of each other.”

“Right, of course not.”  Chris’s expression turned slightly more serious.  “I’ve secured a way out of the city for you and Yuuri.  I’ve paid him half of…well, an egregiously large sum, and you’ll give him the rest of it.  He said he’ll wait for you and Yuuri down by the south gate until midnight, and if you aren’t there by then, he’s leaving without you.  He’ll take you to the next port over, only a few miles from where Mila has the ship moored.  From there, you’ll have to walk.”

Victor nodded.  “Sounds perfect.  How will I get anything done without you around, Chris?”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“Does Yuuri know the plan yet?”

Chris shook his head.  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him since this morning.  And I wasn’t able to get in to the theatre.  The show should be finished soon, though, so I’m going to go get him in a few moments.”

“I want to come with you.”

“ _No_ , Victor, somebody might see you.  I know you’re anxious, but you’re so close to leaving with him.  Don’t screw it all up now.”

Victor laid back on the couch, groaning loudly.  “Fine, fine.  Is it too early for me to go meet this fellow who’s taking us out of town?”

“I suppose you could, but I’d rather you not be out in the open for longer than you need to.”

“Well, Yakov’s going to kick me out soon anyway, so I may as well.”

“It’s true,” came Yakov’s gruff voice from over by his liquor cabinet.

“Good to see you again too, Captain,” Victor called over with a smile.

 

Yuuri wouldn’t say that he wasn’t disappointed Victor couldn’t have seen the ballet show.  Phichit and Masumi both performed admirably, and the production received the longest standing ovation he’d ever seen at the end of it.  One day, they’d come back, when everything was over and everything was safe, and see Phichit dance again.

He left the theatre after a tearful goodbye with Phichit and a letter of recommendation from Lilia tucked into his bag.  It hadn’t been an easy conversation with her this afternoon, and Yuuri had omitted or embellished much of the reason for his departure.  Still, she begrudgingly accepted it, and had in fact written him a letter that would get him into any school or any job he could ever want.  Yuuri wasn’t sure when or if he would ever use it, but reading the staunchly honest words she’d written about his skills filled him with pride.

He was supposed to meet Christophe at the fountain after the show was over.  The square was filled with late night pedestrians and theatregoers, no less activity than the middle of the day.  There was no sign of Chris yet, but Yuuri would just have to be patient.

Yuuri sat down on the edge of the fountain and rifled through his bag.  His mind began to race, wondering if there was anything at all he might have forgotten.

It struck him like a bolt of lightning.  Panicking slightly, he dug through the detritus in his bag searching for the one possession that had been dearest to his heart these many hellish months.

The picture that Victor had drawn, so, so long ago, of the vest he’d wanted Yuuri to make for him.  Yuuri still didn’t know how it had survived the shipwreck, shoved in his pocket as it was.  It was miraculous, and it shouldn’t have even held together, but its resilience made it all the more precious.  Yuuri usually kept it close.  But he remembered now that he’d taken it out just the other day to look at it while in bed, and it must have never made its way back to its proper spot.

Yuuri got to his feet.  If he was quick and quiet, he could go back to Morita’s house and retrieve it, then come back to the fountain in mere minutes.  He tried to think back:  Morita had gone out of town to talk with some business associates a few days ago, and he’d said he would be back after the shows were over, which was the day after tomorrow.  He shouldn’t be home yet.  Yuuri took off in a run, hoping that he remembered right, hoping that he could be in and out without arousing any attention whatsoever.

The house was a few streets away.  Yuuri ran the whole way, his lungs burning with anxiety as he neared the wooden door that he hated, the place that held only fear and loneliness.  There were no lights on in the windows, except for Satsuki’s room.  Yuuri hoped that she was sleeping or otherwise preoccupied; he didn’t want to face her, not now.  He knew that he wouldn’t be able to take the sadness in her eyes when she heard he was leaving.  She was the reason that he hadn’t entirely lost his mind inside this house, and the thought of hurting her was too much to bear.  He’d write her a letter later explaining everything.  But for now, there was no time.

He moved with practiced silence across the darkened interior.  His room was upstairs, just next to Morita’s door.  There was no light coming from that room, and he breathed a little easier as he pushed his own door open.

There, on his desk, was the folded up picture.  He grabbed at it, stuffing it hastily into his bag, and then he heard it.

The familiar, rhythmic tapping of a shoe that made his blood run cold.  The sound that meant he was late coming home, that meant Morita had been waiting for him.  Yuuri turned around and saw the silhouette of the man sitting in a chair across the room.  His foot was tapping impatiently on the wooden floor.

Morita never came into Yuuri’s room.  Seeing him in here now nearly stopped Yuuri’s heart.  He knew, in that moment, that Morita knew everything.  About Victor, about Yuuri’s plan to leave.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” came Morita’s voice.  The moonlight and city lights coming in through the window were slowly illuminating his features.  He sounded different.  Angrier.  Yuuri had never heard him like this.

Yuuri’s voice caught in his throat.  Everything inside him was telling him to just turn and run.  But he stayed, paralyzed by fear and whatever nameless rage had crawled into Morita’s voice.

“I’ll give you one chance to change your mind,” Morita said, getting to his feet and crossing the room.

The sight of him coming closer set a fire in Yuuri’s blood.  He bolted for the door, but Morita was faster, slamming it shut and trapping Yuuri between him and the door.

“You still haven’t paid me back,” Morita said.  “You haven’t even given me half of what you owe me yet.”

“Get away from me,” was all Yuuri could say.  He put up his hands and shoved the man away as hard as he could.

Morita grabbed his wrist, and Yuuri felt the roughness of bandages against his skin, coupled with the stickiness of warm blood.  “See what your pirate did to me, you little whore?” Morita hissed.  “You see how violent he is?  What makes you think he wouldn’t do the same to you?”

Yuuri stared at Morita’s hand, coldness filling him up from the inside out.  _Victor wouldn’t do that to me_ , he thought, unable to say the words aloud.  _Whatever he did to you, I know you deserved it.  I know you did._

“He’s going to die, do you understand me?” Morita said, grabbing Yuuri’s chin with his other hand.  “He’s a wanted man.  Every officer in this city is looking for him, and he’s going to hang like the trash he is.  You’re too good for that.  I’m offering you everything you could ever want, and yet you keep insisting that you want to debase yourself for _him_ instead.  Is it just the idea of fucking a criminal that excites you?”

“Shut up,” Yuuri whispered.  “I’m leaving.  You can’t make me stay here.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Morita hissed, yanking Yuuri closer to him.  “I’ve been so patient with you, I’ve just about had it.  Playing at being so sweet and innocent, when really you’re just ungrateful and conniving.”

“Get off me,” Yuuri said, louder, pulling away from him with all his strength.  He yanked his wrist away from Morita’s grip and went for the door handle.  Morita grabbed the front of Yuuri’s shirt and shoved him again the door with enough force to rattle it in the frame.  Yuuri blinked and winced against the pain of his skull hitting the hard wood.

“Victor is going to die,” Morita repeated.  “He’s going to be arrested and tried for piracy, and when they hang him I’m going to make you watch until you _get it_.  They’re thieves, they’re murderers, and they have no place among decent people.”

“You’re the one who should hang,” Yuuri spat back.  “You wanted to use pirates to do your own dirty work and you almost destroyed my home because of it.  You’re no better than any of them.”

“There’s not a speck of blood on my hands, Yuuri.”

“The hell there isn’t.”  Yuuri pushed against him once more, throwing all his strength into it.  He grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open, rushing out into the dark hallway.  He heard Morita roaring his name behind him, and then, cutting through the chaos, a small, soft voice.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri was frozen in place.  He turned to see Satsuki standing in her doorway, illuminated by the lamps behind her.  She was staring down the corridor at him, and her eyes flitted over to her father.

“Father?” she asked, her little voice shaking with anxiety.  “What’s going on?  I heard yelling.”

“Everything’s fine, my darling,” Morita told her, hastily forcing calm back into his voice.

Satsuki looked over to Yuuri, pursing her lips and considering something.  “I don’t hear very well anymore, but I can still hear,” she said, indicating her deaf ear.  “I know everything’s not fine.”

“Go to bed, Satsuki,” Morita said, with slightly more force.  “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

Satsuki sighed, sounding exceptionally tired.  “Yuuri, he’s not telling me the truth, is he?”

All Yuuri could do was shake his head.  “I’m sorry, Satsuki,” he said.  “I didn’t want you to find out this way, but I’m leaving.  I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.  I understand.”  She gave him a smile, that small, understanding smile that had saved him more times than he could count.

“He’s running off with _pirates_ , Satsuki,” Morita said, spitting the word like it was a vile taste in his mouth.  “Just like the ones that destroyed Hasetsu!  If he leaves, he’s going to die, do you understand?”

The last of Yuuri’s patience left him then.  He’d wanted to tell Satsuki the truth so many times, only to have the memory of pain stop the words before they could form.  He’d wanted to hurt Morita in the same way that he’d hurt him.  He didn’t want to hear one more self-righteous word against Victor, or his crew, or any pirate at all.

“Satsuki,” Yuuri said, with a tranquility he hadn’t felt in months.  “Ask your father who brought the pirates to Hasetsu in the first place.”

Satsuki blinked, her little brow furrowed.  “Who…brought them there?” she repeated.

“It was him.  He planned to have a partnership with them so that he could sell their stolen goods, and he sold out my town to do it.”

“What?” Satsuki said, staring wide-eyed at her father.  Morita was paralyzed, torn between his fury at Yuuri and the devastating look in his daughter’s eyes.  Yuuri could see her mind working, putting together pieces that she must have known for a long time, only to have them finally make a full picture.

“Father…you didn’t…how could you?” she asked.

“If I didn’t do something then we would have lost everything,” Morita blurted out.  “You remember how hard it was the first time I lost a shipment, don’t you, sweetheart?  I didn’t want that for you ever again.”

“So you let them kill all those people?” she yelled.  “You would…you would _do_ something like that?”

“No, darling, please, you don’t understand, just let me explain….”

Satsuki turned and went into her room, slamming the door behind her.  Morita ran over and began to pound his fist on the door, calling her name, begging her to let him in and let him explain everything.  Yuuri watched wordlessly; the sight of Morita losing the one thing he’d ever really, truly cared about was an oddly hollowing experience.  After all, Yuuri had had to hurt Satsuki too to finally free himself.

He went down the stairs and left them both behind.  As soon as his feet hit the road, he began to run.  Towards Victor, and towards home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm freaking out. The end of this story is so close, close as in we're talking maybe two or three chapters left. It's crazy. Crazy and exciting all at once. I think by the next update I'll be able to tell you how many chapters are left, but believe me when I say that it's really not that many. Thanks for everything, for reading, for sticking around, for telling your friends, and motivating me more than you know. Y'all are really the best and I love you <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Come visit me at my [twitter](http://twitter.com/frozencalamari/) and my [tumblr!](http://frozencalamari.tumblr.com/)


End file.
